


A Good Rogering

by abstractconcept



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Blindfolds, Bondage, Crack, Crossdressing, First Time, Hair-pulling, Humor, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-25
Updated: 2012-09-25
Packaged: 2017-11-15 01:27:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 24,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/521629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/abstractconcept/pseuds/abstractconcept
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve was always too busy fighting Nazis to worry about sex. All the same, he never expected his first time to be with a weird blue alien bent on the destruction of the human race.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Good Rogering

**Author's Note:**

  * For [downbythebay_4](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=downbythebay_4).



> **Pairings:** Steve Rogers/Loki Laufeyson (implied Clint/Natasha and some Tony/Bruce flirting in the background)  
>  **Beta: **Snakeling  
> **  
>  **Prompt:**** For the person on the kinkmeme who requested: Steve/Any, first time; Before the war, Steve didn't take much interest in romance and after . . .  
>  References to The Princess Bride, Back to the Future, and Sassy Gay Friend

Whoever thought it would be impossible to get Captain America drunk hadn’t counted on Tony Stark’s inventiveness. Steve still wasn’t sure _why_ Tony wanted to get him drunk—he had suspicions he wasn’t entirely comfortable with—but after Steve had explained to him about how he metabolized alcohol, Tony’s whole face had lit up. Like a Christmas tree. Or a mad scientist. Then he’d gone away without another word.

And had come back a couple of hours later a beaker full of questionable liquid, a protesting Bruce Banner, and a mad gleam in his eye. 

“Try this,” Tony said, shoving the beaker under Steve’s nose. Steve couldn’t say what it smelled like, because at a certain point his sinuses just sort of stopped working. He was pretty sure it burned away any nose hair he might have had, though. 

“I don’t think so, but I appreciate the offer,” Steve replied, pushing Tony’s hand away, but gently, so that the frothing green concoction didn’t drip over the rim and eat through the floor. 

“No no, see, I have it all worked out. It was just a simple matter of chemistry. And pharmaceuticals. And a potent concoction brewed and blessed by a powerful god, and maybe a couple of eyes of newt, that sort of stuff. Puppy dog tails. Plus a few other things for flavor.”

“Strong drink can do terrible things to a man,” Steve pointed out.

“And this drink could do even worse. I’m telling you, leave it, Tony,” Bruce said, still trying to take the beaker away from the man. Tony just held it higher.

“You can’t have any. You’re a mean drunk,” Tony told him.

“I don’t _want_ any,” Bruce insisted. “And he shouldn’t have any, either. No one should drink that. That would _never_ get past the F.D.A.”

“It doesn’t need to! It’s just some harmless hooch. Don’t you guys trust me?” Tony asked, giving them his puppy-dog look.

“No,” they replied in unison. 

“Come on, it won’t kill you, I promise. Just take a sip. Tell me what you think. I’m just going to keep bugging you until you do.”

Steve finally heaved a sigh, accepted the beaker, and took the teeniest, tiniest sip. “Hmm. Tastes like ghsudhfahmapgh. Wow.” He coughed, looking down at the beaker. “You know, this isn’t half bnghwump.” He felt good. Really good. A bit fuzzy, but good. “We should gylrp out and partibblewible,” he suggested to Tony, who was standing at a funny angle.

Tony nodded. “We totally should,” he said very seriously.

***

The next thing Steve knew, they were crashing a bar. It was a real dive, crawling with scummy guys who had scars and tattoos and lengthy criminal records. One of them tried to put a hand on Natasha’s breast.

Approximately ten seconds later, the place had been totally cleared of ruffians. Well, except for the one whose head was still embedded in the plaster. But Natasha was using him to set her drink on, so that was all right. 

“This place is great,” Tony said. “We should make this our regular hangout. Like our _lair_ , you know? Only for like, our nights off. I should call Pepper!” he added brightly, taking out his phone. 

Bruce’s nose was wrinkled. “I think I sat in beer. Or blood. Or something. Tony, don’t you own a _clean_ bar where we could hang out? I mean, what’s the point of being a billionaire if you have to sit in . . . stuff? Can’t we find someplace better?”

“No!” Tony exclaimed. “You’re missing the point! This place has _ambiance_. This place is _authentic._ ”

“Stark, I am sitting in a puddle of blood!”

“But it’s authentic blood! Besides,” Tony added, “Natasha probably put it there.”

“Oh, that makes it all better,” Bruce muttered. He tried mopping at himself ineffectually with a dirty napkin.

Steve just tried to follow the conversation without falling over. Tony was asking Jarvis things and talking enthusiastically to people and drinking a scotch.

“This is a bad idea,” Bruce moaned. 

“Shut up and order a cosmopolitan or something,” Tony told him. “I’m on the phone, here.”

“I want a drink,” Steve told Bruce.

Bruce looked dubious. “Okay. I’ll get you a Shirley Temple.” He got up and came back with drinks for both of them. Steve was disappointed Bruce wouldn’t give him more liquor. It wasn’t like _Steve_ was about to go on a drunken rampage and be found hours later stomping around Soho big, green, buck-ass nude and grunting show tunes.

Well, maybe he would, except for the green bit. Steve had never had a chance to get drunk enough to find out. He wondered if the Hulk was even capable of show tunes. He bet he could at least train him to belt out, “New York, New York,” on cue. The real trick would be in getting him to stop smashing the city long enough to sing about it. 

Steve shook his head a little. He felt awfully woozy.

In the corner, Tony was still chatting airily. “Clint? Teambuilding exercise at the . . . what is this place? The Black Magnum Honky Tonk. Yeah. Yeah, that’s its real name. Yeah, no, Fury says it’s mandatory. I _know_ it’s nearly two in the morning. Take it up with Fury! Okay, yeah.” Tony put his phone away. “Okay, so Clint’s on his way, Pepper’s got the jet, and Thor will be here when he gets here.”

“You called _Thor_?” Bruce squawked. “How?” 

“Okay, so the reception’s not great in Asgard, but I worked it out,” Tony told him. “The real problem is the butt-dialing.”

“Butt-dialing?” Steve repeated, confused. 

“Yeah, he’s got a serious problem with that—don’t even ask me how. I don’t know if he has pockets sewn into his freaking cape or what. All I know is, in the middle of the night, every night, I get a call from him. It’s like clockwork. It drives me _nuts_. You can _hear_ him shouting, “ANOTHER ROUND OF ALE FOR MY BRAVE COMRADES!” and “I REQUIRE A VOLUPTUOUS MAIDEN TO WARM MY BED THIS NIGHT!” The guy really needs to learn how to dial it down a notch.”

Steve snorted. 

“You’re kidding,” Natasha said, taking a seat and setting a bottle of whisky on the table. She smiled wryly. “You sure he’s not doing it on purpose?”

“You mean, am I getting prank calls from a rather obtuse mythical Norse demigod? I kind of doubt it, but who knows?”

“Tony,” Steve interrupted. 

“Yeah?”

“I’m really drunk.”

“Yeah. You can thank me later.”

“No, I mean it, reeeeeeeeeally drunk,” Steve insisted. He wasn’t sure why this point was so important, but it clearly needed to be driven home, because Tony didn’t look all that impressed. Steve rested his head on Tony’s shoulder. 

“Oh, wow. We need to get you laid, Captain Choirboy.” Tony tossed back the rest of his scotch and signaled for another, but Bruce grabbed it and downed it before Tony got a chance. “I said no booze for you!” Tony reprimanded.

“It’s only my third . . . fourth? It’s only my fourth shot,” Bruce said. 

“What does ‘laid’ mean?” Steve asked drowsily.

“Laid. Screwed. Fucked. Whatever you called it back in the day. I’m sure you must know some quaint old-timey euphemism for it, like hitchin’ up the wagon, or something sufficiently suggestive.”

Steve jerked away, blushing brightly. “I really don’t need anything like that,” he muttered.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to offend your delicate sensibilities. I shouldn’t say things like that when there are children or puritanical super soldiers from the second world war around, and I—” Tony cut off as the door slammed open. “What—what— _what_ the hell is _he_ doing here?” A beaming Thor was escorting a chained Loki into the bar. “Thor,” Tony said, standing to intercept them. “Buddy. Big thunder. Captain Crackle. Whatever you like to be called. Look at your life. Look at your choices. You do not bring violent, psychotic drama queens to dive bars. You just don’t.”

“Yes,” Steve put in. “You should take him somewhere nice.” Loki glowered at him.

“Yes— _no_ ,” Tony said. “Now you march him _right_ back up to Asgard, young man, or so help me—”

“My brother is well secured,” Thor assured them. “His chains are of an unbreakable metal and I shall be his keeper. I vow this, that he is as harmless right now as if he were a kitten.”

Natasha, Bruce, Tony and Steve all looked at Loki, who flashed them a quick, slick, sly smile that implied the exact opposite of everything a smile is supposed to convey. 

“Okay, first place, _not_ a kitten,” Tony countered. “This face? Not the face of a loveable little fluffball, no siree. In the second place, why the hell would you even want to bring him to this little shindig? I’m going to level with you here; he’s kind of a buzzkill.”

“He is harmless,” Thor said, pulling up two chairs. Loki took one in stony silence. “Besides, what would you have me do? Leave him unwatched? Unattended? He is much too clever; I shouldn’t dare turn my back on him. It’s a lesson I have learned too well.”

Tony heaved a sigh. “You mark my words, he’s going to get you plastered and then he’s going to escape, and the next thing you know there’ll be giant mechanical deathfish swimming all over Manhattan again, and when there are, _don’t_ come crying to me.” He tossed back a shot. 

Thor slapped him on the back with a raucous laugh, making Tony spray scotch across the table. “Such nonsense! He could not possibly trick me into a state of intoxication—not on this weak mother’s milk you Midgardians quaff.”

“Yeah, well,” Tony said, coughing a little and pouring himself another drink. “If you say so. I do like your new bracelets,” he informed Loki. “They really add a certain something to the outfit.” Loki ignored this completely. 

Steve watched Loki sit there, stiff and straight, his lips set in a thin line. For some reason it troubled Steve. It was against everything he stood for to abuse a prisoner. Of course, that was silly; dragging someone to a party was hardly abuse. But still, it did feel a bit rude to sit a man down in chains while all around him people drank and lived free and laughed at him. To a man as vain as Loki, it had to chafe. 

Steve turned to Thor. “Let me buy your brother a drink,” he suggested. Thor raised his big blond eyebrows. “It can’t hurt anything,” Steve added defensively. 

“By all means!” Thor said with a thunderous laugh. 

“Sure, get the crazy murderer drunk; that sounds like a _great_ plan,” Natasha grumbled.

Loki scowled. “I am uninterested in your mind-stultifying potions and your . . . _camaraderie_ ,” he said with a contemptuous lift of his lip. 

“Just one,” Steve cajoled. He didn’t know why he cared so much. “I’ll even join you,” he offered. 

The look the man gave him was long, cool and appraising. “Very well,” he said. “One drink.”

Tony handed Steve the beaker. It was still mostly full. Steve smiled. “Great.”

That was the last thing he remembered for several hours.

***

Unlike many other boys, Steve Rogers had not wasted a whole lot of time wondering what it would be like the first time he slept with a woman. He did make the assumption that it would _be_ a woman. Back then, it was just to be expected. And he’d assumed he’d be married to her, as well.

And he’d always thought there would be a dance, first. Something slow in soft candlelight, something that just felt right. The dance was, in many ways, perhaps more important than what came after. So Steve _had_ thought about it, at least a bit. But not much. Nazis were kind of his overwhelming interest. But he would have said he had _some_ expectations. 

He had _not_ expected to find himself in bed with a mad alien terrorist after a night of carousing with the boys. 

Loki was in his _bed!_

With that thought, Steve fell out of said bed and landed on the floor with a crash.

This was _his bed._ Steve didn’t know how they’d got there, what they’d done or were planning to do, but Loki couldn’t be in his _bed._ And he was wearing—he was wearing—the mind simply couldn’t handle it. And Steve didn’t know what to call it anyway; lingerie wasn’t exactly his area of expertise. It was lacy. It had bows on. It tried to accent bits of Loki that Loki didn’t have, and failed to mask Loki’s erection. Also, the outfit was _pink._

 _God help me,_ Steve thought; there were _tassels._ They looked like they were supposed to swing from bits Loki couldn’t swing, but they jiggled gamely anyhow. Steve couldn’t stop staring at them. 

And Loki, crazy Loki who wanted to kill him, was in his bed! Wearing that outfit! And weirdly, despite its ill fit, it didn’t look too bad. Its soft, gossamer folds contrasted beautifully with the paleness of Loki’s skin and accentuated the liquid green of his eyes. Steve couldn’t stop staring.

“Is it not to your liking?” the man asked.

Steve blinked. In the interest of inter-universal relations he said, “No! It’s fine. It’s . . . nice. You look nice. It’s just not . . . what I would typically expect to see you in.” He looked around his room. It was Spartan and clean, the way he liked it. There was a small bed, a map on the wall, a dresser, and . . . that was it. He didn’t go in for decoration. Even Peggy’s picture had been put away in a drawer. Everything in the room was very simple. 

Except for the overgrown, lace-clad demigod lounging on his bed. The one who trailed a hand along his thigh in a way even the oblivious Steve Rogers had to admit was pretty erotic.

Steve cleared his throat. “Um. So. How about those Yankees?” he managed. 

Loki squinted and let out a disgusted, gin-soaked noise of contempt. “Is that your very best? I am a _God,_ for pity’s sake. I require a certain . . . . elevation of skill, one might say, from a potential bed partner.”

“Well, then I should go get Tony,” Steve quipped. “I bet he’s got enough experience.”

“Stop being an imbecile. You were doing fine. Just stop . . . _saying_ things,” Loki told him. 

Steve sank back onto the bed, thinking this over. He’d been doing fine? Him? What had he been doing? “Did we—did we . . .?” he croaked. 

Loki arched a brow. “Oral copulation was imminent, but then you had a little _moment._ Does the thought repulse you that much?”

With difficulty, Steve focused on Loki. On his face. His lips. On his clever, clever eyes, which seemed to hold a challenge even now. “Um,” Steve croaked. “It’s just that I’m not—you know. Like that.”

“Oh. I see.” Loki’s lips flat-lined again, but Steve could read a novel in his eyes. 

The idea of Loki touching him that intimately _should_ have bothered him, he knew. Loki was an enemy. He was simply bad. He was a bad person who did bad things and would continue to do them until the day he died, if demigods ever did die. He very probably had no redeeming features whatsoever, except for the fact that he’d entertained the idea of doing dirty things to Steve and was now looking up at him like a kicked puppy.

God, Steve wanted to kiss him.

What the hell was wrong with him? He was pretty sure it wasn’t Loki’s doing. He’d had thoughts like this in the past. He thought about how Tony made him laugh, how he strutted and smiled and charmed. He thought about the tender lurch he got deep in his chest when Bruce looked especially tired or alone. He thought about Thor’s big, strong arms, arms as strong as his, his whole being fierce and full of laughter. But Loki? That was just wrong. There was really no point in admiring the male form when said male form wanted you dead. And Steve couldn’t help it. 

Steve fell back against his pillow. “There’s got to be something wrong with me,” he mumbled.

Loki laughed softly, as though Steve had said something reassuring. 

To Steve’s astonishment, Loki stretched out against the bed. Because of the size of the mattress, most of the room Loki was taking was actually Steve. Not Steve’s side of the bed, but actual bits of Steve, because Steve was a big man in a small bed, and Loki didn’t seem to notice. 

“Wait, are you drunk, too?”

“I could not possibly become intoxicated on the meager brew you pathetic mortals produce.” Loki hiccupped. He sat up and looked rather abashed. “At least not until my thirty-fifth glass,” he mumbled. 

“I’ve still got a bit of a buzz on myself,” Steve admitted. 

Loki sneered. “Yes, and barely a drizzle of that foul-looking drink had passed your lips before you were falling all over me, begging me to touch you.”

Steve felt himself go hot from his neck all the way up to his hairline. “I did?” he said. “And you didn’t . . . kick me across the room?”

Loki turned his head away. “The chains and Thor’s presence prevented me from punishing you as you so richly deserved,” he noted lightly. He looked at Steve from the corner of his eye. “Though I must admit, I did rather like it when you said you wished to worship me.”

“I said that?”

“ _I wish to unclothe you and worship at the temple of Loki,_ you said. Yes. I did like that bit.” Loki smiled at him. It almost looked like a genuine smile. It was a nice smile. Almost an inviting smile.

Steve stared at him. “Oh, the hell with it,” he muttered, and kissed him, hard. Loki seemed taken aback for a fraction of a second, but then he kissed back just as hard. Harder, in fact; he pushed Steve down on the bed and straddled him. Even with the chains, Loki managed to pin Steve’s arms above him. Steve’s heart pounded wildly, and he had to admit it wasn’t from fear.

Steve didn’t even know he could _get_ this aroused. Loki trailed a wet, hot series of kisses down his jaw, his throat. Steve felt like each time Loki’s tongue touched his skin, it drew Steve’s pulse to the surface. His whole body felt hot and tense and sort of trembly.

Steve managed to jerk one hand free and used it to reach up and touch Loki’s face, running his thumb over his jaw, and Loki made a low, vulnerable sort of noise.

“Oh, _Jesus_ ,” Steve whispered. 

Loki drew back and smiled wickedly. “ _Wrong_ ,” he said. He surveyed Steve’s body like a land he had just conquered, which wasn’t far off the mark. “You really like this,” he said with a hint of surprise.

“Yeah,” Steve admitted. The evidence would have been difficult to hide, considering Loki was pretty much sitting on it. “I do.”

“But why?”

Steve was puzzled. “What do you mean, why? It seems obvious.”

“And yet I am not even trying to satisfy _your_ needs,” Loki told him. 

“Well, that’s . . . honest,” Steve said. He grinned. “Guess that means you like it, too.”

Loki gave this a moment of consideration, shrugged, and went back to nipping at Steve’s neck and rutting against him. That suited Steve just fine. 

“More,” he begged.

Just then, the door slammed open, and Tony and Thor sort of wavered in the doorway, holding onto one another’s shoulders and trying to stay upright. They were totally hammered, and it wasn’t Thor’s kind of hammer. Steve and Loki scrambled away from each other.

“FOUND YOU, BROTHER!” Thor yelled jubilantly, raising a drunken fist in triumph. “NOW IT IS MY TURN TO HIDE!”

“No, I told you, that is _not_ what we’re doing,” Tony corrected. “That was _not_ the plan.” He stared at Loki and Steve. “Jesus. Didn’t think you had it in you, Boy Scout. Sleeping with the enemy, huh?”

Steve bolted up. “ _No_ ,” he said. Loki looked away. On impulse, Steve added, “He would never sleep with a mortal,” just to try to help Loki save face. 

Tony pursed his lips. “But he _will_ put on a cute little pink number and climb in bed with one,” he pointed out. 

With a snarl, Loki lunged at him, his skin suddenly becoming a deep blue, his eyes blazing red. Before he could leap on Tony, Thor stepped in, his eyes flashing a warning, and Loki halted, resentment rising from him like steam. 

“ _Whoa,_ there, Papa Smurf,” Tony protested, putting his hands up. “It wasn’t a judgment; it was just an observation. A totally neutral, entirely passive observation. Are his eyes _supposed_ to do that? Doesn’t that _hurt?_ ” he asked Thor. “I could get you some Visine or something,” he offered. 

Thor was suddenly looking somewhat more sober. “I believe it is his blood,” he murmured.

“I wish to leave,” Loki snapped. His skin began to lose the blue tint, and his eyes were no longer blood red, but he still seemed very angry.

“Brother—” Thor began, but Loki interrupted, his face furious.

“I _demand_ you return me to Asgard at _once!_ ” he snarled. “Have you not mocked and shamed me enough for one evening? Would you see me as a plaything to a mortal man, just to degrade me? This is intolerable. ” 

Steve rubbed the back of his head. He’d bet his last dime that the statement was pure manipulation on Loki’s part; Steve certainly hadn’t mocked or shamed him, and he suspected the man had even put on the lingerie himself—but it got the desired reaction out of Thor, who looked like he might cry. Instead he hurried to get the Tesseract so they could return. 

Maybe Loki had planned to escape when Thor left him alone, but Tony still blocked the doorway, and Loki made no move toward it. 

As they waited Thor’s return, Loki ignored them. 

Tony cleared his throat. “So, yeah. Thanks for coming, it was great having you,” he said. “Next time, just so you know, it’s customary to bring your host a little something. You know, a bottle of wine, something of that nature.” Loki glowered at him. “Okay, be that way. I was just making small talk. Shouldn’t have mentioned it anyway. I mean, considering that last time you brought something it was an army.” 

Even though he had no reason, Steve felt vaguely guilty. “Loki . . .” he said, reaching out to touch his shoulder. 

The man jerked away as if the contact burned. “Do not speak to me, _mortal_ ,” he spat. 

_Touch-y,_ Tony mouthed, making a face, but stopped when Steve frowned at him. “I just wanted to say that it was, well, kinda nice to see a softer side of you. Take care,” Steve said. Loki’s eyes narrowed, but he said nothing.

Thor was back in a moment. “I am truly sorry, brother,” he said. “I would not see you humiliated. That was never my intention.” Loki sniffed and reached a languid hand to the Tesseract, and shortly the two vanished in a flash of blue light. 

“That was . . . weird,” Steve commented. He wasn’t sure what else to say, but luckily, before Tony could start in, Bruce popped up behind him. He slung an arm around Tony’s shoulders. 

“You guys,” he said. “ _You guysss._ Guess what?”

“What’s up?” Tony said.

Bruce grinned. “I love you guys,” he said, and fell over. Tony just managed to sort of catch him, and Steve helped him pick Bruce up off the floor. 

“Bruce, you are a major disappointment tonight,” Tony sighed. “Did you think he’d be a sloppy drunk? I never would have pegged him for a sloppy drunk.”

“He can sleep it off here. I don’t need much sleep; a couple hours on the couch is fine.”

“You sure Loki won’t get jealous if you let another man in your bed?”

“Shut up.”

They maneuvered Bruce onto the bed. Tony poured the man a big glass of water and set it nearby. “Sleep well and dream of large, green women,” Tony said to the dozing man, patting his curly head. Bruce snored in response. 

Steve flicked off the light and they both went out into the hall. Steve still couldn’t believe he’d nearly had sex with Loki, of all people. He must be out of his tree. “That was really weird,” he repeated numbly.

Tony patted his shoulder. “It was a weird night all around,” he agreed.

***

Steve came down to breakfast slowly the next morning. He hadn’t slept well. His emotions were a mixed bag of confusion, lust, resentment and revulsion. Loki was a monster, and Steve knew it. And in spite of it all, he’d pay quite a lot just to see the man smile one more time. He sighed and rubbed his face. This couldn’t be real. Maybe the prior night had just been a very realistic dream.

“Good morning, sunshine,” Tony greeted Steve as he walked into the kitchen. “Was that a great party last night or what? Hope Thor made it home okay. We need to get him a designated Valkyrie if he’s going to get that trashed. Shit, there’s money in that. Think about the ads. _Too much mead? Get your Valkyrie-d home._ Well, it needs work, but hey, I could make it fly.” You’d never have guessed that Tony had been drinking all night. He seemed chipper and fresh and was drinking a big glass of juice and burning some eggs on the stove. “How are you feeling? Ready for your Wheaties?”

Steve groaned. “I have a slight headache,” he admitted. 

Tony looked surprised. “ _Slight?_ ” he repeated. “Wow, I kind of expected more, after your wild night. You were practically swinging from the chandeliers. You sang old war songs, got maudlin and cried a bit, told me I was your best friend, and went home with—”

“I remember,” Steve said shortly. “My metabolism is fast and my cells heal quickly. I don’t get tired, I don’t get bruises, and I don’t get hangovers.” He went to the fridge, got out the orange juice, poured himself a big glass, and gulped it down in five or six swallows. Then he wiped his mouth and gave Tony a slightly battered smile. 

“Yeah?” Tony’s brown eyes twinkled. “Well, don’t look now, but I think the good Captain actually got wounded in battle last night.”

Steve raised his eyebrows quizzically. 

With a grin, Tony tapped the side of his own neck. “You got a little somethin’ right there, Cap. Maybe a bruise or something?” he said with faux innocence. 

Still puzzled, Steve rooted around in a drawer and took out a big, shiny ladle. He peered closely at his distorted reflection. There was a small, reddish mark on his skin just above his collar. A bruise? It must have been a monster at one point, for his body to have only healed it up to the size of a thumbprint. And he didn’t remember getting hit in the throat. Then again, he didn’t remember much of anything from last night. “Huh,” he said. “What is that?”

Tony winked at him. “You tell me, lover boy.”

Steve watched his reflection turn pink as realization dawned. He jammed the ladle back in the drawer and stiffly hurried out of the room to take a shower—and find himself a turtleneck. 

“No eggs?” Tony called after him. 

“Not hungry!” Steve yelled back. Last night had really happened, and there was proof right there on his neck. He didn’t have a bruise. He didn’t have a bruise at all.

Captain America had a love-bite.

***

Steve spent the next few days keeping his mind occupied with other things. He worked out, he saw a couple of movies, and he helped promote Food Bank for New York City, meeting the mayor, shaking hands, and signing autographs. It helped pass the time and, more importantly, the good actions Steve made hopefully offset the naughty thoughts Steve couldn’t stop himself from having.

When he got home that afternoon, he found Tony and Natasha playing a game of billiards. “That looks like fun,” he said approvingly.

“Yep,” Natasha agreed. “And when I win one more game, he’s out a pair of boxers.” She narrowed her eyes, lifted one leg onto the table, and made a hell of a bank shot. One that didn’t require her to get up on the table at all, Steve noted, feeling a bit at sea. He turned and looked at Tony. 

For the first time, Steve noticed Tony wasn’t wearing much. He tried hard not to stare. “You’re . . . playing strip-billiards? That’s somewhat less wholesome than I first thought,” he mumbled.

Tony did not seem to be bothered at all, standing about in his underpants and smoking a gigantic cigar. “Yeah? And what did _you_ do all day?” he asked. “Let me guess; you gave every orphan you could find a whole dime, a kiss on the cheek and a handshake.”

Steve was hurt. “I did a bit of charity work, it’s true—”

“God, don’t do the pouting thing,” Tony pleaded. “When you do the pouting thing, you out-cute me, and I don’t like that.”

Natasha nodded, her face sober. “You are about nine-hundred percent more attractive when you stick your lower lip out like that,” she agreed. “And it does make you cuter than Stark.”

“Don’t agree with me!” Tony yelped in outrage. 

Steve went over to Tony’s bar and poured himself a seltzer water. “I may have helped out a charity and jogged around the block . . . seventy times,” he admitted.

Tony groaned. 

“Well, not all of us are geniuses who can benefit the world in other ways,” Steve pointed out. 

Natasha tapped the cue ball ever so lightly. It rolled lazily across the table, gave the eight ball a friendly nudge, and the game was over. She smirked. 

“That is _so true_ ,” Tony said to Steve, ignoring Natasha’s win. “Do you know what happened to me today?” Steve shook his head obediently to allow Tony to continue the story. “I suddenly got this _brilliant_ insight into cold fusion—I’m not saying I’m _there_ , but I’m saying there’s a bit of math we may have overlooked. Now, I know what you’re thinking; _is_ he actually going to remove his shorts? But let’s stay on point. I understand the transitional atomic state! And I said so! Noon today. I said so!”

Steve gave Natasha a confused look, and she just rolled her eyes. “He’s stalling.”

“No. I’m just saying that Steve is right. There aren’t many geniuses in the world, and you _squander_ the ones you have! The point is; I was buying a hot dog today in central park—no you do not need to tell me what’s in a hot dog. I’m a genius; I know what’s in a hot dog. I wanted one anyway. So he’s handing me the dog and BAM, it hits me! THE TRANSITIONAL ATOMIC STATE! I can explain it! It makes perfect sense! So I tell the hot dog vendor—his name is Vinny, by the way—I tell Vinny all about transitional atomic states and what this will do to the field of physics and I’m telling you, Stephen Hawking would be weeping—I assume he can cry? I don’t meant to sound insensitive, but I don’t actually know whether he can cry, but if he could, he would. And I laid it all out like a glittering path leading straight toward our glorious future and I told him, ‘And _that,_ Vincent, _that_ is how cold fusion can be achieved in six months, or possible three, if you can get me enough tin foil.’ And _do you know what he said to me?_ ”

Steve and Natasha wordlessly shook their heads. 

Tony slammed his cigar down in an ashtray and mashed the lit tip out. “He said to me, and I quote, ‘Would yous like mustards with that?’ That is what Vinnie the Vendor said to me. And do you know, I was so taken aback, I completely forgot whatever brilliant idea I had? He set cold fusion back by ten years!”

There was a knock on the door, and Steve blinked a little, waiting for his head to clear. Sometimes when Tony talked, you just got swept up in the story. It was like a sort of spell. 

Pepper poked her head in. “Are we having dinner?”

Tony brightened. “Does that mean I get to put my pants back on?”

“Why were you taking your pants off?”

“Don’t ask me; Natasha was making me; I didn’t have anything to do with it.”

“You didn’t have _anything_ to do with it?” Pepper inquired. Steve didn’t know much about women, but every instinct he had was screaming at him to pick up his shield and get into fetal position behind it and not move until Pepper was at least one hundred miles away. 

Tony didn’t seem too fazed, though. He gave Steve a smile and patted his arm as he passed. “Yeah, it was a terrible loss for science and a tragedy for mankind, but what are you gonna do?” he said with a wink. “Anyway, Vince makes a hell of a dog. Which just goes to prove your point.”

“My point?” Steve repeated blankly. He couldn’t even remember how the conversation started, let alone what his point was. 

Tony allowed Pepper to drag him to the door. Over his shoulder he said, “Yeah, your point—that some people are put on earth to be geniuses, some people are supposed to sell hot dogs, and some people are supposed to sign autographs for charities while they pine away for their long-lost archvillains.”

Steve’s head whipped around and he glared daggers at Tony.

“Hey, don’t look at me that way—I’m on your side. I think he’s totally dreamy! Sure, he looks at me like he might rip my intestines out while I sleep, but he only looks at you like he worries he’s not the prettiest princess you know, so . . . I think you two kids could have a real chance.”

“Shut _up,_ Tony,” Steve spat. His nerves felt jangly. And he didn’t like the knowing way Natasha was looking at him. 

“Stop changing the subject,” Steve heard Pepper order.

“I know you’re upset with me, but my best bud just fell in lust with an alien freakjob. I think he’s in more trouble at the moment.”

“No,” Pepper said, yanking him out the door. “You’re the one wearing the boxers, so _you’re_ the one in trouble.”

“You have a problem with Bugs Bunny?” Steve heard Tony protest before the door cut him off. 

Steve buried his face in his hands. 

Natasha tossed her stick aside. “As I see it,” she said, “you have three options here. You can finish what Stark started and take off those clothes; you can explain cold fusion in a way that doesn’t make me feel stupid, or you can let me paint your toenails pink and confess your state of smitten-ness for Loki.”

Steve was _not_ taking his underpants off in front of a lady; that was straight out. And he thought he _might_ be able to make up something about cold fusion (if the horses run fast enough, it might get up to eighty-eight miles per hour and . . .) but he just wasn’t a good liar. Which left him with the one option.

***

“I shouldn’t like him,” Steve bemoaned.

“You definitely shouldn’t.”

“I shouldn’t even _think_ about him.”

“Amen,” Natasha agreed. “But it’s not like playing that game works.”

Steve watched mournfully as Natasha carefully applied the brush to his pinkie toe. “So what does work?” He’d have given anything to know.

She blew on his nails, then sat back on her haunches and gave him a sympathetic look. “There’s only one thing that works,” she informed him, brushing a lock of red hair behind her ear. 

Steve would do _anything_ to stop pining over Loki. He’d have a damned _brain transplant_ if it would help. “What is it? What can I do?”

Natasha put her hands on his knees and let out a long sigh. They were in her room, which was moderately more comfortable than his, though still simple. He did like the satin bedspread, though. It felt cool against his fingertips. 

“There’s only one thing you can do,” she said. “You give yourself one night with him—”

“Dinner? A show?” Steve asked. He wished he could take notes. 

“It doesn’t matter. Do whatever you want. Just one night. You have a good time. You take him home. You do him.” She paused. “Like . . . sexually. You make love, if that sounds better. Get something out of it. Take your time, but don’t let him get the jump on you.”

“Mmm-hmmm. Okay, yes, I think I understand. And then?”

Natasha looked blank. “And then you kill him.”

Steve blinked, uncomprehending. “Why?”

“What do you mean, _why?_ You motherfucking idiot. He’s _Loki!_ He’s a sadistic piece of fuck who’s ten times smarter than you are. In fact, this is a bad idea. I shouldn’t have mentioned it. Maybe I should sleep with him instead.”

“Well, I— _what!?_ ”

“At least I wouldn’t have any compunction about killing him afterward. Look, the point is, we don’t want him getting up the next day. I get that you feel you have unfinished business, but trust me, my way is best.”

“That is _not_ what I want.”

Natasha rolled her eyes. “And what _do_ you want, sunshine? What’s your way?”

“Well, I would take him flowers, and we would take a walk in the park, and we would talk awhile and then—” in a split second, Steve saw Natasha’s point. There was no ‘and then,’ not with Loki. Not unless you were willing to concede, _And then we’ll slaughter the first born of every noble family, and force every ruler bow at our feet, and then we might choose a couple of random people to dissect on the top of a Volvo, just for laughs, and speaking of laughs, we’ll probably practice our best insane mwhahahas . . . no._

Loki was bad. Loki was crazy. No amount of secret wishing would ever change that. 

Steve flopped back against the bed pillows. “Fuck,” he said with feeling.

“You and me both, brother,” Natasha said. She poured him a glass of whisky that she had taken from Tony’s little cabinet, the one made of some rare wood that Tony was very proud of. Steve finished the whole glass. 

And then he had the bottle of gin.

He lost six rounds of billiards to Natasha, though nobody got naked or drunk or sexy. 

And then he polished off the bottle of rum, too.

Steve never felt a thing.

***

The next morning Steve felt considerably better about the whole thing. Maybe he’d just needed to get it off his chest. Now that he’d talked about Loki, he was sure he could forget him. He was practically over it all ready.

“Mr. America!” Thor boomed at him as he came downstairs. “A fine morning, is it not?” 

Thor’s bellow was not something you wanted to hear first thing after rising. “ _Captain_ America,” Steve corrected with a wince, feeling like he was suddenly about to be judged in a swimsuit competition. “Or just Steve is fine.”

Thor slapped him on the back. “I must tell you how grateful I am for whatever it was you did.”

“What? When?”

“For my brother, of course! His improvement is astounding.”

Steve blinked. He would have reacted very differently if he’d caught someone doing something like that to a younger sibling of his, but he supposed Asgard was just different. “Oh,” he said, blushing. “You’re welcome?” he added, voice rising into a question.

“He is like a different person. He has only tried to kill me once in the past two days, you know.”

“That’s . . . great,” Steve said. He got himself a cup of coffee and a banana and reflected that Asgard must be the strangest place that ever existed. 

“Is it not remarkable?” Thor said, pouring himself a cup of coffee. “His words are still cruel as the winter’s frost, but do not carry the same bite. And where once he paced restlessly in his cell, he prefers to sit now, quiet—almost meek, for Loki! He even requested a book, and once I crept upon him, unobserved, and discovered him reading a poem on flowers—and smiling! And I am sure it is somehow due to the influence of our good Captain.”

Bruce raised his eyebrows. “Yeah, you broke the crazy person. Nice going, Captain,” he joked.

“Wh-why would you think it had anything to do with me?” Steve asked as casually as he could. He blew lightly on his coffee, which was much too hot, and darker than he liked it. 

“I can think of nothing else that has influenced him recently,” Thor said with a shrug. “Also, he asked after you.”

“He asked about me? What’d he say?” 

Thor laughed and laughed. 

“What? What’s funny?”

Thor finished his coffee and set the cup gently— _respectfully_ —back on the counter so it didn’t break. “’Tis nothing, my friend. He just wanted to know if I had heard from you—and whether you had asked after him.”

Steve could feel Bruce grinning at him across the table. Why was everyone smiling at him like that? It was very weird. “Oh,” Steve replied. “Well . . . oh. You should—you should tell him that I asked after him. And that I hope he’s well,” he said. 

Thor’s grin was very broad indeed. “Oh, I will,” he promised. 

“So why are you here, anyway?” Bruce asked. 

“I have matters to attend this day,” Thor said. “I must meet with Director Fury.”

“Yeah? Why?”

“My business is my own. You need not concern yourselves,” Thor assured the man. He clapped Bruce on the back as he left.

After he was gone, Bruce looked at Steve. “What was that about?” Steve wondered.

Bruce could only shrug. “We’ll find out when the explosions start,” he guessed. He smiled at Steve. “Just so you know, your pick-up lines could use some work,” he teased. “I could give you a few pointers. Maybe you could send Thor back with flowers next time,” he suggested, his warm eyes twinkling. 

Steve made a face and flicked his spoon in Bruce’s direction. Bruce ducked and the thing embedded itself in the wall an inch deep. 

Tony came in just then. “How come you’re allowed to throw things at Banner?” he demanded to know. “ _I’m_ not allowed to throw things at him. Whenever I get playful it’s, ‘Stop poking Dr. Banner and trying to make him turn into a rage monster,’ and ‘Stop squirting water on Dr. Banner and trying to upset him,’ and ‘Stop pouring hot coffee on Dr. Banner and trying to make the other guy come out.’ You guys never let me have any fun at all.” 

“To be fair, even I object to having hot coffee poured on my lap,” Bruce told him wryly. 

“That one was very nearly an accident,” Tony promised.

“I don’t know why you want him to turn into the Hulk and destroy Stark Tower anyway,” Steve put in. 

“I have insurance. Besides, have you no sense of scientific curiosity?” Tony said. He passed Bruce on the way to the fridge and gave the man’s hair a tug. 

“Ow,” Bruce complained. He squirmed in his seat so that he could glare at Tony as the man walked away. 

“I’m beginning to think it has less to do with scientific curiosity and more to do with a man-crush,” Steve remarked. 

“What are you talking about? Psh. ‘Man-crush,’” Tony repeated. He got out some milk and cereal. 

“Please, you just pulled his pig-tails. Almost _literally_ ,” Steve retorted. 

“Oh, are we going there? Because if we’re talking man-crushes, you’re the one with stars in his eyes. O Loki, O Loki, wherefore art thou, Loki? What light through yonder window breaks? It is the east, and Captain America is the sun!” Tony gave Steve a cheesy grin. 

Steve let out a breath. He would not let Tony get a rise out of him today. “That’s enough,” he said, peeling his banana. “I want you both suited up and ready to go in an hour.”

“What?” Bruce said. “You know I don’t even have a suit.”

“You have those special pants we made for you.”

“That isn’t a suit. Stretch pants aren’t exactly superhero haute couture.”

Steve had to swallow a big chunk of banana before he could talk. “Would it help if I put some stars and stripes and perhaps some glitter on them?” he offered dryly. 

“ _No_.”

“Not to mention I have plans,” Tony added. “Some super secret modifications. Or wait, an hour—that’s eleven. I think that might be what I have down for that meeting with the hot Swedish twins. Er. Swedish scientists.” He cleared his throat. “Jarvis, what did I have down for eleven this morning?”

“That time is allocated for training with Mr. Rogers and Mr. Banner,” Jarvis informed him politely.

Tony swore. “That was _not_ on there the last time I looked,” he growled.

“It’s been marked off for weeks, sir,” Jarvis said. 

“Well, move it. I’m in the mood for some seductive Swedish engineering. Get me some Swedes.”

“I’m sorry, sir. The Swedish engineers will not be available until after lunch,” Jarvis informed him.

Tony spun to fix Steve with a scowl. “That leaves just enough time for a good, rough workout,” Steve said cheerfully. “See you back here in an hour.”

***

More than an hour later, they were in an empty building. The walls had been painted with frescoes of high-rises and running civilians being chased by monsters.

“I don’t know about this,” Bruce said uneasily. “I can’t guarantee I won’t just go right through the wall and wreak mayhem on some real skyscrapers and innocent people.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Tony said. For a brief moment hope surged in Steve’s chest; the whole point of the exercise was to get Bruce used to fighting alongside the rest of the team, and trust was a big part of that.

“Yeah?” Bruce said, taking his shirt off.

“Sure.” Tony shrugged. “There aren’t any skyscrapers around here,” Tony pointed out. 

“Not helpful,” Steve grunted. 

“What?”

Steve put a hand on Tony’s metal shoulder. “Look, it’s important to me that by the next time a real emergency happens, the rest of us react like a well-oiled machine.”

“I already do! That’s _exactly_ what I do!” Tony gestured to his suit.

“ _Tony._ Bruce likes and trusts you the most.”

“He does?”

“I do?” 

“He _does,_ ,” Steve said firmly. “Or at any rate, the other guy does. You help us turn the other guy from a liability into an asset. I saw the way he was with you. I was really impressed.”

For the first time since Steve had met him, Tony looked just slightly humble. Whether this was an act, Steve wasn’t sure. “Well. You know. It’s what I do.”

“Well, you did good. You’ve established a bond with Banner that went beyond the change and was sustained even with the Hulk. The Hulk is a great tool. He’s big and powerful and as long as he’s not actively killing allies or innocent civilians, he might even be our greatest asset. No enemy, no matter how great a strategist, could entirely predict his actions.”

“Huh,” Tony said. “You really thought this through. Spend a lot of time on this, did you?”

“Well, Fury agreed with me, so he helped me set up this training facility. The walls and floor are reinforced. He’ll send a crew in to patch it back up when we’re done. I’d like to start the training with Thor, but he’s unavailable. So it’ll be you and me. I want two people with the Hulk at all times. If we can get to the point where he’s taking commands well and if we can break him of the nasty habit of hurting his allies, I’ll want to bring Natasha and Clint on board as well. But that’s an optimistic assumption. Right now, we just want to get him used to us. Outside and inside the training facility. That means we should really try to bond with him in everyday life as well.”

“Sure, yeah. We’ll, uh, play catch and I’ll call him Sport if you want. Take him fishing and stuff,” Tony said. “No problem.”

“I mean it, Stark. I’ve put a lot of thought into this.”

“I can see you have. I think I need to buy you some girlie magazines. Or, you know, the other kind. I’m not sure they have a nudie magazine with just supervillains, but I can look into it. You sure you’re not ready for an iPad?”

“Tony.”

“Guys, are you going to make me stand here in my amazing elastic pants all day? Because I feel really uncomfortable waiting here, half-naked, committing crimes against fashion, especially when fashion never did anything mean to me first,” Bruce called.

“Okay. You’re right,” Steve said. He came over and squeezed Bruce’s shoulder. “Now, what’s going to happen is that I’m going to try to get you to smash some bad guys. I’ll point to the wall or one will drop down from the ceiling on a pole. You just smash. Them, not me, if you don’t mind. And don’t be afraid of yourself or your power. Tony and I can take whatever you give us.”

Bruce still looked doubtful. “If you say so.” He took off his glasses and put them with his clothes. “Let’s put these somewhere safe,” he said, and Steve took them out of the room. 

He came back to find Tony had Bruce in a headlock and was giving him noogies. “Say it! Say it! Say Tony Stark’s mathematical theory of elasticity of quasicrystals is the most innovative and promising theory you ever heard! Say it!”

Banner actually seemed to be laughing even as he struggled, but wouldn’t say it. “Tony Stark’s theory has some troubling implications!” he insisted. 

“Banner! Stark! That’s enough!” Steve barked. “Time to suit up,” he added for Banner’s benefit, since Tony was already suited up. 

Tony was lifted into the air as Bruce changed. “Wheee!” he said. 

The Hulk grinned broadly, then grabbed Tony by one ankle and flung him casually at the wall, where his head embedded into it an inch deep. 

Steve stepped in. He pointed at a monster painted on the wall. “Hulk! Smash!” he commanded. 

The Hulk leapt up and gouged the enemy off the wall. He bounded back to Steve’s side. 

“Good,” Steve said.

The Hulk punched him right in the nose.

Steve picked himself out of the rubble a few minutes later. Iron Man was soaring in circles around the Hulk. When an enemy on a stick dropped down, Tony would shout, “Hulk! Sic ‘em!” and the Hulk would rip the thing out of the air and toss it aside. He also swatted at Tony once or twice, but Tony kept his distance. 

“Hulk! There!” Steve roared, pointing to a wooden enemy that popped up behind him. 

The Hulk turned and stomped on it. Then he reached out and tried to hammer Steve into the floor with a giant green fist. 

“Whoa there,” Tony interrupted, pushing his fist away. “C’mere, Jolly Green Giant. Get that one,” he ordered. 

Hulk destroyed another fresco and looked back to Tony.

“Not bad. Try a ‘Ho, ho, ho,’” he suggested. Hulk glared and another bad guy dropped from the ceiling. The Hulk crumpled it in one hand without looking. “I get the feeling we’re not challenging you, like, intellectually,” Tony observed. 

The Hulk roared and tried to smash him.

“ _No_ , that’s bad,” Steve said, blocking the hit with his shield. “Hitting Tony isn’t nice,” he cautioned. 

Tony and the Hulk only stared at him. 

“Get that one,” Tony said as another dummy popped up. “And try a ‘Ho, ho, ho.’ Come on, just once.”

The Hulk went after it, but this one was on a track, and zipped away. The Hulk followed it like an enthusiastic but destructive greyhound. 

“Hitting Tony isn’t _nice?_ ” Tony repeated. “Are we going to make him watch Barney and give him a juice box when we’re done?” 

“We can’t just tell him what we want him to do. We have to make clear what we _don’t_ want him doing,” Steve said stubbornly. “Mark my words, by the end of our sessions, he’ll be able to remember that hitting Tony isn’t nice. Hulk?” he added. “Come over here and repeat after me; ‘hitting Tony isn’t—’” Steve broke off as a powerful blow slammed him to the floor.

“Ho, ho, ho,” the Hulk grunted. 

“Green giant!” Tony sang happily and clapped his metal hands together. “Nice job, buddy. _Awesome_ job. You—” The Hulk smacked him out of the air and he landed, with a clang, beside Steve. Another enemy popped up and the Hulk went after it.

“I think that went well,” Tony groaned. 

“It could have been worse,” Steve muttered, sitting up painfully. They looked up in apprehension as the Hulk knuckled in their direction at high speed, leaving giant indentations in the concrete. They both struggled to their feet and Steve brought his shield up.

The Hulk came to a stop before them. “What smash now?” he growled. 

Tony gave him a weak smile and pointed in a random direction, and the green monster was off again in a flash. 

“He’s kind of sweet, in his own special way,” Steve commented, bending to rest his hands on his knees. 

“Naw. That’s just the concussion talking,” Tony informed him. “Hulk! Smash _this!_ ” Tony launched a small missile from his shoulder, which the Hulk bounded after quite happily. “I hope those sexy Swedish engineers are down with a 12:30 naptime, because when we get home, I’m dragging out my mat and my blanket and turning off all the lights in Stark Manor for at least an hour or two. How about you?”

Steve tried to pretend he wasn’t out of breath. “Me? I could do this all day.” The Hulk crashed back toward them. “Hulk. Sm—”

The Hulk knocked Steve through another wall.

***

“I have four times as many bruises as you do,” Steve noted enviously. He and Tony were convalescing on the sofa together, comparing war wounds.

“But you heal ten times faster than I do, so that’s totally fair,” Tony pointed out. His forehead was bloody and Steve suspected the man might have a couple of bruised ribs, but the Hulk had gone after Steve much more often than he’d attacked Tony. 

“I’d say your grand training was a huge failure,” Tony said, popping a couple of aspirin in his mouth and washing them down with a scotch and soda.

“Not at all,” Steve replied earnestly. “You have the best bond with him, and he only hit you three or four times. And when you held up a hand that last time and told him to stop, he _stopped._ That was amazing. And apart from the first time he hit you, he actually seemed to be pulling his punches. I think he was purposefully being gentle with you.”

Tony moved his icepack from his ribs to his head. “I’d hate to know what he’d do to me if he didn’t like me,” he muttered. He was in bad shape. It was probably for the best that the Swedish engineers had turned out to be buff men, rather than buxom beauties. Tony had sent them away after waffling about it only a minute or two.

“Guys, I am _so_ sorry,” Bruce said, bringing them more ice. “I’m just—I really am sorry. I hope you can accept my apologies.”

“Nobody holds this against you,” Tony assured him. “I blame Rogers.”

“What?” Steve said. 

“It was your brilliant idea. Banner didn’t want to do it.”

Steve tried to straighten up to glower at Tony accusingly but had to stop when his back seized in protest. “You spend all your spare time trying to make Dr. Banner hulk out and then you get mad at me when I give you the opportunity to see it happen?”

“Please, let’s not fight anymore,” Bruce pleaded. 

Tony looked up. “Aw, don’t worry about it.” He accepted the icepack and ruffled Bruce’s hair. “Foot massage would be nice, though,” he added. 

Bruce gave him a look. 

“I’m just _saying_ ,” Tony said. “I mean, if you really want to make it up to me and all. Just, you know, considering how bruised and battered I am and taking into account the fact that the only part of me that _doesn’t_ hurt at the moment are my feet . . .” 

Bruce heaved a sigh, sat down on a black leather ottoman and pulled one of Tony’s feet into his lap.

“Bruce. Dr. Banner. You _don’t_ have to do that,” Steve told him. “I mean it; don’t let Stark take advantage of you.”

“It’s fine,” Bruce said.

“See? He said it’s fine. Anyway, what do you care? You wanted us to bond. We’re bonding.” Tony offered his most winning grin and raised his glass in a pseudo-toast to Steve. 

Before Steve could protest further, they were interrupted by Thor passing through the room.

“Thor! Buddy, take a seat,” Tony said to him. “We were just about to watch a movie while Bruce tends to our every need.”

Steve didn’t want to admit it, but that actually sounded kind of wonderful. He was tired, really tired, and the delight of having a movie in one’s living quarters was one of the things that made this century almost worth it. 

Thor looked preoccupied, though. “I fear I cannot. I have lingered too long already.”

“Come on,” Tony cajoled. “You already missed one team bonding experience for the day. My grades are way ahead of yours. You’re never going to get a shiny gold star from Captain America over there if you don’t participate.”

Thor’s brow wrinkled. “Shiny gold star?”

“Sit _down_.”

“I cannot!” Thor shouted.

“Calm your tits, man. Though this just proves my point; you need to relax.”

“Calm your tits?”

“It’s an expression. Slang. It means calm down. Man, you and Steve miss out on so much, not having all my super fantastic language skills. Come on and sit down—just give us ten minutes—and I’ll be your American teacher. Like an English teacher, but with more awesome thrown in. More . . . _Stark_ ,” Tony said, emphasizing the last word with a sort of jazz-hands thing.

Steve groaned and rolled his eyes.

Thor, on the other hand, took a seat in the recliner near Tony. There were dark circles under his eyes, and it made Steve uneasy. “I do feel I miss much of the nuance in your conversations,” he admitted. “Sometimes I feel left out and at sea. I suppose ten minutes could not hurt. Things can wait that long, and I have a great need to rest. I have been spending my days very busily,” he sighed. 

“Great,” Tony said. He squirmed until he was nearly flat on his back, legs in Bruce’s lap. “This’ll be great. So, repeat after me; _sweet_.”

“Sweet,” Thor said dutifully. “It is a word I am accustomed to using already.”

“Try using it when something makes you happy. Like when you fling your hammer at something and it hits right where you want it to—that’s sweet.”

Thor smiled. “An easily mastered word,” he said. 

“Tony,” Steve warned.

“What? You should try it too. An attempt at being something other than a ludicrous anachronism would do you good.”

“Bite me,” Steve replied with dignity.

“I taught him that one,” Natasha boasted as she came into the room with a beer in one hand and Clint in tow. “So how come I wasn’t invited to movie night?”

“Well, I—it wasn’t that you weren’t invited, it’s just that—I . . . hadn’t gotten around to it yet,” Tony said. 

“So Clint and I are the afterthoughts,” Natasha said coolly. No one saw what she did next, exactly, because it happened pretty fast, but cap went flying off her beer and pinged off of Tony’s chest. Steve could have _sworn_ he saw her flick her tongue around the cap, but that was just impossible, wasn’t it? You couldn’t open a beer with your _tongue,_ could you?

“Wow. Sorry. Next time all events will be run past Ms. Romanova first, just so she doesn’t start twisting people’s nipples off with her teeth. Touchy, much?” Tony added. 

Natasha shrugged and proceeded to curl up, catlike, on the loveseat. “Nah, I was just fucking with your head,” she said. “It’s fine. Clint,” she added. She allowed him to sit on the floor beside her. 

Tony snorted. “She’s got you whipped,” he mumbled. 

Something buzzed past Tony’s ear and he yelped. There was a tinkle of glass and Tony thrashed on the couch, trying to see what had shattered. “That was my—okay, do you _know_ how much I paid for that clock, Barton?”

“Yeah, well, my next arrow is gonna pin your hand to the remote and fuse it there.”

“That would actually be a handy thing, if Jarvis weren’t already in charge of that sort of thing. Pff. Remotes. What are you, a Neanderthal? Jarvis, please play, _Amazon Women on the Moon.”_

Natasha made a noise of disgust, and Steve shook his head at Tony. “Pick a different flick, Stark,” Clint said suggested. 

“Your moon is barren, I am sorry to inform you,” Thor said as kindly as he could. “You will not find suitable maidens there.”

“Four against one. Pick a different movie,” Steve ordered.

“This is not a democracy. This is Tony Stark’s House of Fun. Meaning you get the same fun Stark likes and there are no refunds.”

“ _Tony_. We’ve talked about this. You need to learn to work well with others. Showing a willing spirit of compromise in small matters will go along way when and if bigger things—”

“Okay, okay, _okay,_ you’ve nagged me—‘ _convinced_ ’ me not to do it,” Tony capitulated with an exasperated sigh. 

“ _I_ actually think it’s a pretty funny movie,” Bruce mumbled. “Though I can see in mixed company some of the gratuitous nudity might be uncomfortable.”

“Well, thank you for that. What’s everyone else want?” Tony demanded. 

“ _Mr. Smith Goes to Washington,_ ” Steve suggested. “It’s interesting _and_ it has a solid moral message.”

“Ugh,” Clint remarked. “I want to see shit get blown up, and fast cars and lots of action. Let’s watch _The Bourne Identity_.” 

“What about you, Thor? What does Ridgemont High vote?” 

Ordinarily Thor would have looked confused at the reference, but he seemed too tired to care. “I have stayed too long already. I have responsibilities in Asgard.”

“Is it Loki?” Steve asked gently. To his mortification, the entire room sniggered about his question. Steve sniffed. “I only meant . . . is he up to trouble, then? You seem tired. What can we do to help?”

“Nothing as yet. I may call on you soon enough, but for the moment . . . for the moment everything is well. And I am of Asgard!” he added proudly, thumping a fist to his chest. “We can handle most things. There are merely rumors about, and one does not quash a rumor by spreading it, so I would do well to be on my way before my tongue loosens itself further. I wish you all well until we meet once more.”

Bruce got up and traded some hearty backslaps with the man, and even Natasha and Clint hugged him briefly, but Steve and Tony exchanged a look and went back to convalescing. One of Thor’s rib-crushing embraces would not improve matters. 

“Sure you’re all right?” Steve asked one more time. 

“I am fine, my friend,” Thor assured him. 

But even after he left and the movie started up, Steve couldn’t help wondering. What was wrong with Thor? And what did it mean for Loki?

***

Steve woke on the couch the next morning, alone. Someone had tossed a blanket over him. He shifted it aside and sat up, looking around blearily. It was still early morning. He could tell because he never would have been able to sleep through all the sunshine streaming through Tony’s many, many windows.

Steve got up went into the kitchen and rummaged about until he found some granola bars. He ate three at once and took the another with him. He also noticed a bowl of cereal soaking in the sink, so it seemed like someone else was up too. He decided to go find them. 

He walked past the door to each Avenger’s quarters, but the lights were all dark. Someone in Natasha’s room was snoring like a large truck revving its engine. Steve wondered if she had a guest or if she really snored like that. 

Tony’s room was empty. That was a bit puzzling, because Tony had been in high spirits last night, shouting, “Drink when you see an explosion! Drink when you see a car chase!” This had annoyed Clint because they were watching the movie he’d picked out and Tony kept interrupting, but he also kept them in thirty year old scotch, so no one complained. But Steve would have expected Tony to have crashed by now, and hard. 

He sighed. Tony probably _had_ crashed—he just hadn’t crashed in his bedroom. They’d only been living at Stark Tower for about a month, and Tony was already infamous for getting crazy ideas when he got drunk and trying to carry them out. Well, that wasn’t entirely fair. Tony was infamous for getting crazy ideas all the damn time. They just usually weren’t, “Look, I put ham and eggs and shredded cheese and bits of tortilla in the blender, and when you turn it on . . . when you turn it on, you get a blended breakfast burrito! Get it? It’s like a smoothie that . . . _gross!_ Oh, my god, this is disgusting. Why did you let me make that?” sorts of ideas.

But Tony hadn’t been in the kitchen. Steve sighed. He should probably leave well enough alone; at least it was quiet. But he was curious and besides, he felt a special responsibility to Tony, Howard’s wayward son. It couldn’t hurt to look around a bit. 

He wasn’t in the pool, thank God. He wasn’t sunning outside. Maybe he was in his labs. 

Ordinarily everyone but Bruce was banned from the labs on pain of electrical discharge, but today Jarvis let him in without so much as an unpleasant word. 

Tony was propped up on one of his cars, attaching a pole and wires to the top. He had a glass of something in his hand. Something sort of dark goldish and _definitely_ alcoholic.

“Good morning. Looks like nice weather today,” Steve said.

Tony squinted at him, rolled his eyes and polished off his drink.

“Tony, what are you drinking?”

“Malt whisky.”

Steve boggled. “It’s not even seven in the morning!” he protested.

“Breakfast of champions,” Tony replied, doffing an invisible hat to Steve. 

“You get up first thing and start drinking?” Steve couldn’t hide the disappointment in his voice. 

“No, I never went down. I didn’t realize it was so late. Early. Late. Seven in the morning?” Tony rubbed the back of his head. There were dark circles under his eyes and for a moment, Steve really felt for him. Poor Tony didn’t have an off switch. 

“What were you building?”

Tony looked up in surprise, then back at the car. “Well, see, Bruce and I thought we had it, really had it, around two a.m.; the quantum mechanics seemed right, but the flux capacitor didn’t work so I built this to harness the—”

“And where’s Dr. Banner now?”

Tony cleared his throat. “I dumped him in my bed just after three. He’s kind of a lightweight. Eight glasses of gin and you’re toast? I mean, come on.”

Steve offered Tony a hand down from the car. “I think you should go to bed, too,” he said. 

“Yeah, but I—”

“You can play with your toy car tomorrow,” Steve teased. 

Tony rolled his eyes. “Oh, sure, but _you’re_ all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, and I know for a fact that you didn’t fall asleep until after one, because you made it through the first season of M.A.S.H.”

“That was a good show.”

“Not in dispute. But the point is, you’re here being chipper at me and that’s not right, even with the serum.” Tony got down off the car anyway and headed toward the bedroom. 

“Okay, Tony.”

“I’m just saying, don’t come and Polyanna me while I’m at work. And it’s early. And I’m still drunk from the night before. Bad time to Polyanna someone, is all I’m saying.”

“Understood, Tony.”

“Don’t wake me unless there’s something urgent like an alien invasion or the threat of nuclear war,” Tony told him. “And it had better be an _imminent_ threat, because I’m not getting up if Cuba’s playing ‘let’s have a pissing contest,’” he added over his shoulder. 

Steve shook his head. He went back to the living room and turned on the T.V. He wasn’t really in the mood to watch something, but the noise the set made was friendly and kept him company. He half-listened to the hosts of Good Morning America laughing about something as he ate his last granola bar. Maybe he should have made a real breakfast. He looked out the window. The clouds were huge and fluffy; it was supposed to rain a bit later. He made a mental note to grab an umbrella if he had to go anywhere. 

He chewed slowly, wondering what they had for breakfast on Asgard. Just as the thought popped into his head, there was a crackle and as Steve turned his head, Thor popped into the room. His eyes and hair were wilder than usual. He seemed _larger_ than usual too, truly godlike, his presence taking over the whole room. 

“What—what’s wrong?” Steve asked around the granola bar still sticking out of his mouth. He stumbled to his feet. For the first time he noticed Thor was holding Loki, who was chained and muzzled this time as well. 

“My brother—you must watch him.” With that, Thor flung Loki at Steve, who barely managed to catch the demigod as he flipped over the couch. 

Loki growled, fighting to get to his feet and free himself from Steve’s grip. Steve held fast to him, wrapping his arms around the man from behind. 

Thor pointed one large finger at Loki. “No. We will not do this now.” He looked at Steve. “Director Fury knows my plight. Speak to him. I had hoped it would not come to this.” He began to turn away. 

“ _What?_ ” Steve spat out the granola bar. “You’re not leaving!” Steve felt adrenaline course through his body. “You can’t just—just— _throw_ your crazy brother at me and disappear!”

For a moment Thor looked angry, his eyebrows lowering, the clouds outside darkening to match his mood. But then the man took a deep breath and mastered himself. “I cannot linger here. Asgard is under attack by the Chitauri. They crave vengeance on my brother. He will be safe here. Watch him,” Thor cautioned. “But do not believe his honeyed words and do not give him any leeway. He will be dangerous—but I cannot watch him and fight for my world both. The Director knows.” Thor nodded to Steve and then disappeared. 

Steve looked at Loki, who glowered, stiff and unyielding in Steve’s arms. “Hell,” Steve said. 

He supposed he should go wake Tony. He didn’t know whether this counted as an urgent matter, but he had the feeling that having Loki in close proximity would turn it into one soon enough.

***

“I will not eat this Midgardian refuse.”

“Good. Fine. I’m telling you, it’d be easier if we just stock up on Kibbles ‘n Bits.” Tony paced, his frenetic energy building again. “He wouldn’t know the difference, and it’d be a lot cheaper.”

Loki refused to look at his plate, pushing it away. 

Clint pushed it right back at him, his eyes hard. Loki might have suspected Barton was trying to poison him. Steve didn’t think that was Clint’s style, but Steve could still see how that might be a concern, especially with as angry as the man still was about Loki’s last little trip to Earth. 

“You have to eat something,” Steve told Loki. He gave him a dry smile. “Don’t you want to get big and strong so you can destroy a bunch of civilizations?”

Loki gave him a withering look. 

“Muzzle him back up. I’m going to call Fury again. I think I can help with the containment chamber,” Tony said. 

“Fury’s got it under control,” Natasha told him.

“Bullshit. His last little cage left me underwhelmed; now it’s _my_ turn to build a better mousetrap,” Tony said. 

“Bruce and I will stay with Loki. Everyone else can go,” Steve told them. With a few grumbles, the other Avengers filed out of Tony’s kitchen, Clint pausing to elbow Loki on his way out the door.

“What do you need me to do?” Bruce sounded nervous.

“Nothing. Just good to have two people, just in case.” What Steve didn’t add was that he knew The Other Guy could handle Loki, and also didn’t like him. Without Thor, the Hulk was their best defense. “Are you sure you won’t eat anything?” Loki had been there, chained and muzzled, for almost two days. He’d accepted a little water when they’d removed the muzzle, but refused everything else. 

“I am not certain what pains a Midgardian poison might inflict on me, but I’m not eager to find out,” Loki said.

“So you _are_ worried about poison.”

“It’s what I would do,” Loki admitted. 

“Well, lucky for you, we’re not evil,” Bruce informed him. He grabbed Loki’s plate. “Here, look,” he said. He grabbed a strip of bacon and ate it in two bites. He sampled some egg using his bare hands, and even took a swig of Loki’s orange juice. “There. Better?”

The demigod’s lip lifted. “You table manners are _abhorrent_.”

Steve laughed. “Here; will you eat if you watch me make it? I can’t do much, but I think I can manage an omelet.” Loki didn’t answer except for the merest shrug, which Steve took to mean he might try it. He went to the fridge and got out eggs, cheese, mushrooms, setting them all on the counter. 

Loki stared down at the table, his eyes unfocused. 

“You all right?” Bruce asked. He grabbed a fork and started in on Loki’s breakfast in earnest. 

“I should be defending Asgard.” Loki’s voice was barely a whisper.

“Because it’s your fault?” Bruce asked around a mouthful of egg. 

“Because I am its _king_ ,” Loki snarled. 

“Yeah, well, I think Thor can handle it.”

“He knows not what he will face. And I! To be discarded here like garbage! I am the _only_ one who knows the Chitauri. I am the only chance Asgard has to defeat those savage monsters!”

“Well, that’s the pot calling the kettle bonkers,” Bruce muttered. 

“There’s nothing you can do about it,” Steve interrupted. “I suggest you stop stewing for the moment.” He set the plate in front of Loki and handed him a plastic fork. “Look, your people are under attack. That’s a terrible thing, and I’m sorry. Right now, you can’t help. So just . . . eat something, all right?”

Loki looked at him. Steve couldn’t read the expression on his face. Steve really wished he’d at least try the omelet. He didn’t know what he’d say to Thor if the man returned to find his brother dead of malnutrition. He knew Thor loved his brother despite his madness. 

Steve looked at him expectantly.

But there was no way Loki would eat anything prepared by an Avenger. He was paranoid. Maybe demigods didn’t need to eat. Steve hoped he could live on air and sunshine or something, because he was out of ideas to force the man to eat. “Please?” Steve said. 

Loki took a bite of the omelet. He smiled thinly. “It is acceptable,” he said in his haughtiest tone. 

Steve ignored that and nodded. “Thank you.”

“Oh, good, you didn’t even have to pretend the fork was an airplane,” Bruce muttered. 

“And how is your . . . friend?” Loki asked him pleasantly. 

Bruce’s face darkened. Steve laid a hand on the man’s arm. “Don’t let him get to you.”

“He gives me the creeps.”

“Just eat your breakfast and quit trying to stir up trouble,” Steve told Loki. He gave the man a hard look, a look that said, _I won’t like what I do to you, but I’ll do it anyway if I have to._

Apparently deciding Steve meant it, Loki nodded slightly. “As you wish.” He ate the rest of his meal quietly. Steve hoped the rest of his visit would be so smooth. Somehow, he doubted it.

***

“He needs exercise.”

Tony set the welding clamp aside and arched an eyebrow at Steve. “So you want to take him on walkies? Not happening, my friend.”

“Tony, it’s inhumane to—”

“He is not your pet alien, here for you to cuddle and groom and feed,” Tony interrupted. He put his hands on his hips. “And I have seen you literally do all those things. Last night you were actually _hand-feeding him popcorn._ And Natastha says she caught you brushing his hair.”

Steve lifted his chin. “He needs to eat, and he doesn’t trust anyone else. And his hair was tangled. And I didn’t cuddle with him.”

“Okay, the fact that the only defense you can muster is ‘I didn’t cuddle with him,’ really concerns me. This is like—this is like Clinton. ‘I did not have sex with that alien.’ Well, Steve, we’re not playing word games here. Loki is playing head games. Do you get that? I’m not sure you get that.”

“This wasn’t his idea.”

“Really? So taking him out in the middle of the city to do a little jazzercize in an abandoned building just _came_ to you, with no prompting on his part.” Tony gave Steve a doubtful look.

“Insomuch as I understand anything in that sentence, yes. He’s been crabby lately. Fretful. Not sleeping. Not knowing what’s going on in Asgard weighs heavily on him.”

“This is a bad idea. This is a bad, bad idea. I should know. I’ve had a few in my time.” Tony leaned back against the countertop. 

“We’re just going to go a few rounds. And you’ll be there in case things get out of hand.”

“Like hell I will.”

Steve couldn’t help but smile. “Don’t tell me Tony Stark is getting _cautious._ Playing it safe?”

Tony turned away and went over to his computer, bringing up the screen and ostensibly researching stronger materials to build cages for aliens. “Fuck you,” he muttered. 

Steve crossed his arms over his chest. “Well, I mean, if you won’t do this, I’ll have to tell Pepper you’re becoming a responsible adult.”

Tony glared at him. “You wouldn’t do that.”

“You’ll leave me no choice, Tony. I can’t lie to her. What can I say? She’ll be proud of you. Suspicious, but proud. Maybe you’re ready to step up and take on more responsibilities. Settle down. Have a family. Buy a minivan.”

“Lies. All lies.” Tony waved his hand at the computer, his screens going blank. “Look, fine. We’ll take the alien out for a little wrestling. But I’m not doing it for him, you understand?”

“No?” 

“No. I’m doing this for you. You’re obviously pretty sexually frustrated and I guess a little jousting is the best you can do. I’m only going along with it to be kind.”

“Shut up, Tony.”

***

Loki stood in the middle of the warehouse, slowly turning in a circle, getting his bearings. There were still a few walls with sections of brick missing, courtesy of the last time Tony and Steve took the Hulk out for some fun, but Fury had gotten someone to fix most of it up. “Please remind me; what was the point of this little exercise, again?” Loki’s face was the picture of contempt.

“The exercise is exercise,” Steve explained patiently. “You’ll feel better when you’ve got your heart rate up, engaged in some physical activity . . . that kind of thing. We’re just going to spar. You can work out some of your frustrations on me.”

“I see. Surely that will take my mind off the fact that my entire family likely lies dead on a distant planet, their bodies violated by my enemies.” Loki shifted a little, chains clinking.

“Maybe you should have thought of that before you betrayed your brother and your planet and teamed up with a bunch of assholes,” Tony pointed out. 

Loki glowered. 

“Believe me, you _will_ feel better if you work out some frustration.” Steve patted his arm.

“Ah, yes. Well, the outfit is certainly doing wonders for my self-esteem,” Loki noted sourly. Steve had given him appropriate workout clothes—sweats and a t-shirt, even though it had meant taking his magic-dampening shackles off for a second. Steve thought he looked just fine, but perhaps he wasn’t the best judge of fashion. And even Steve had to admit the bright red sweat pants were perhaps a little strange on a demigod. 

“Yeah, he’s not exactly runway material in that outfit, I’ll give him that,” Tony said. “Then again, it’s hard to find nice accessories for crazy.”

“Compared to you, I am still a raving beauty.” 

“Well, the raving part is certainly right. But seriously, you think you’re better looking than I am? Come on. Talk about deluded.” Tony rolled his eyes. Loki glared.

Steve patted Loki on the back. “Don’t worry; you’re the prettiest,” he joked. 

Weirdly, Loki seemed to relax a little, whether because of Steve’s touch or his words. “Thank you,” he said graciously. Tony gave him a look of disbelief, and Loki smiled. “Whatever your opinion, you do know that Captain America rarely lies, even when he is being glib.”

“So—wait. You’re _really_ saying you think you’re prettier than I am? Because standards on your planet might be low, but if we drag fifty people off the street and ask which of us they find hotter, they’re going to pick me every time.” 

“Tony,” Steve said in a warning voice. “Are you really proposing an impromptu beauty contest between yourself and an alien life-form?”

“No,” Tony said. “I’m just saying I would win if we held one. Though if they ever held a Miss Lunatic pageant he’d probably win by a landslide.”

Loki slowly turned his head so he could give Tony his most cold, menacing look. “‘Spar,’ hmmm?” he said, and punched Tony in his only vulnerable place—where his mask was up so that he could talk. The blow knocked Tony on his ass.

“NOT IN THE _FACE_ , DAMMIT!” Tony protested, getting back on his feet, the suit sealing itself off. He literally launched himself at Loki, and the two of them slammed into a wall, plaster peppering their heads. 

Steve was amazed. Even with the chains on, Loki was a force to be reckoned with. 

Loki laughed. “How surprising; it seems our good Captain was right.” He hit Tony again, but now Tony had the mask down and the punch only made a dull ring. “My frustrations are just melting away.” He snaked around Tony and kicked hard at the suit’s joint, causing Tony to lose balance and fall to one knee. 

“If you can take as good as you give, this might be fun for both of us,” Tony said, getting up. He blasted Loki in the face and sent the man reeling. 

“Enough,” Steve said, stepping in between the two. 

“Aw, I was just starting to have fun,” Tony protested.

“I brought him to spar with me,” Steve explained. “I didn’t intend for you to take the brunt of it.”

“Oh, now I see. _Now_ I know how it is.” Tony laughed knowingly, but Steve didn’t rise to the bait. Instead he went over to Loki and offered him a hand up.

“I have no quarrel with you,” Loki said reluctantly. 

That struck Steve as a little odd, for Loki, but he let it pass. “Come on. I know you’re a tough guy. Show me how tough you are.”

“Oh, very well. If I must,” Loki said with a sigh. With an almost desultory swing of his hands, he knocked Steve clear off his feet. 

Steve grinned up at him. “Nice.” He got up and brushed himself off. “See if you can do it again.”

Loki seemed amused. “Very well.” He lashed out again, but Steve had learned from the prior hit and leapt out of the way. 

“Quit dancing and hit him,” Tony quarterbacked. 

Steve stood uncertainly. He didn’t actually want to hurt Loki, but then, he wasn’t certain he _could._ He also wasn’t sure how Loki would take being hit. Emotionally, he tended to be unstable and could take even the smallest slight badly, and Steve didn’t want to provoke a tantrum. 

Loki, however, didn’t seem especially fragile. He gave Steve a sly smile. “Allow me to make it a bit easier for you,” he said, and popped Steve in the nose hard enough to make it bleed. 

Shocked, Steve stumbled back for a moment. The pain spurred him to hit back—hard. It was a good punch, a hard punch, a swift, balled fist right to the solar plexus. Even Loki, the demigod, doubled over, wheezing. 

Loki laughed weakly. “Is that your best?”

“No.” Steve hit him again, harder, knocking him down. To his surprise, the man rolled as he fell and was quickly back on his feet. 

Loki’s smile was broad, though bloody. “It wasn’t my best, either,” he confessed. He leapt on Steve, wrapping his chains around the man and dragging him to the floor. They scrabbled, kicking and squirming. 

Steve managed to get an elbow in a few times, but Loki was strong. At one point, he manage to pin Steve to the floor. “Surrender,” Loki growled in his ear. 

Steve ignored the fact that having Loki on top of him and saying things in his ear was getting him awfully aroused. “Like hell,” he choked. With a mighty effort, he flung Loki off his back. He leapt to take the advantage, grabbing the man and slamming him down. Loki brought both hands down in a swift arc, hitting Steve in the back of the head hard enough to make him see stars. They rolled, and Steve found himself on his back again, Loki straddling him, eyes wild. 

Now Loki pressed his advantage, putting a hand on either side of Steve’s neck and pushing, the chain digging into Steve’s throat. “No surrender?” he said, raising his eyebrows. “Are you sure?”

Steve wondered why Tony didn’t step in. He was going to die if something didn’t change soon. But on the brink of passing out, Steve felt the pressure stop. Loki sat back on his haunches—well, more or less. He was still straddling Steve. The look on his face was unreadable. Steve coughed hard. “Why did you—”

“You are no challenge for me,” Loki said. Even so, he helped Steve to his feet. His hair was a mess and there was a smudge of dirt on his cheek, but he still seemed awfully composed for a guy who’d just stopped throttling a man.

Steve glared at Tony. “You could have stepped in,” he said. 

Tony flipped up the mask and rolled his eyes. “Right, yeah, like he was gonna hurt his woobie,” he said. “Congratulations, though. That was even more sexual than I imagined. I have it all recorded, so naturally I’ll sell it later. Archvillains Gone Wild; how does that strike you?”

“Shut up, Tony.”

“Get it out of your system, did you?” Tony asked. He glanced at Steve’s crotch. “Woah, guess not,” he said. Steve flushed and grabbed his shield, grateful for its protection in every sense. Tony winked at Loki. “Bet you’re glad for your relatively more modest duds now, huh?” he said. 

Either Loki genuinely didn’t understand, or he had the best poker face Steve had ever encountered. “I have no idea what you’re saying,” he replied. Steve hoped he was telling the truth. His face was flushed and the way he was breathing hard was making Steve think erotic things, but Loki didn’t need to know that.

“Come on, guys,” Steve said. “Let’s just hit the showers.”

He’d just have to make sure the water was cold enough.

***

“Checkmate in fifteen moves.”

Bruce stared at the board. He took his glasses off and rubbed the bridge of his nose, then put his glasses back on and stared some more. “I don’t see it.”

Loki made a small, dismissive noise. 

Steve looked from Loki to the board and back again. Loki played chess every day after dinner, sometimes with Bruce, sometimes Tony. Steve hated chess, though he had picked up the basics. It was Loki’s favorite activity, for some reason. 

Steve didn’t know what to make of that, so he didn’t think about it. Mostly he sat quietly and sketched. He figured everyone had their own way of relaxing. And there was something . . . _cozy_ about sitting around drawing while Bruce and Loki played chess. There was even a fire roaring in the grate, casting a homey sort of glow over the scene.

“Seriously, I don’t see it. You’re fucking with me, right?” Bruce said. 

The demigod arched a brow and pointed at something on the board. The gesture was meaningless to Steve, but it had an impact on Bruce. 

“Shit,” he said. He took his glasses off again and rubbed his eyes. “You win this round, evil overlord,” he joked. 

Loki smiled a little. “I protest being described as evil. I’m merely . . . morally atypical.”

“You know, if you fought like you played chess, we’d all be languishing in chains at _your_ feet,” Bruce pointed out. 

“Hah, yes. Unfortunately, people are so very unpredictable. They make terrible pawns. No matter how carefully you plan, there’s always some idiot willing to make the sacrifice play and save their beloved king,” Loki replied wistfully. 

“Well, it’s been nice having my ass handed to me, but I think I’m going to hit the sack. If you’ll excuse me.” Bruce got up and actually shook Loki’s hand. It baffled Steve, but the two of them seemed to get on well together. When Bruce wasn’t actively Hulking out, anyway.

“That was satisfying.” Loki looked out the window, gazing at the skyline. “I must thank you,” he said, turning back to Steve.

Steve looked up from his drawing, blinking a little. “What? Me? Really? What did I do, other than lose three straight rounds of chess rather spectacularly before Bruce stepped in and put me out of my misery?”

“Not that. Our exciting activity the other day did indeed stimulate my blood and my mind. I feel quite refreshed. You?” The smile Loki gave was gently teasing. 

“Well, my esophagus wasn’t thanking me afterward, but I’m fine now,” Steve replied. His bruises had all healed. Loki still had a small cut on his lip, and Steve would have bet good money he was sporting a few other injuries as well. The thought both satisfied Steve and made him feel slightly guilty.

Loki came to stand beside him, limping slightly. He looked over Steve’s shoulder. “That . . . you drew _me,_ ” he said in mild surprise. 

“Yeah.”

“It’s astounding.”

“In what way?”

“In quality.” Loki took the sketchpad and held it up, looking at the drawing with frank admiration. “I am amazed that a mere Midgardian could produce something like this—and with such limited and archaic tools.” 

“Thanks, I think.” Steve was quite proud of the picture. He’d captured Loki in quiet contemplation, a hint of a smile playing at the corner of his mouth. 

“I assure you, I meant it as a compliment.” Loki traced a line with his fingertip. “Is this how I seem to you?”

“What do you mean? Surely you recognize yourself, if you think it’s so good.”

“It’s not that. I . . .” Loki leaned against the arm of Steve’s chair as he sought for words. “It’s merely that this is drawn with . . . with quiet affection, I should say.” His smile turned sad. “It is nothing like the monster some people see.”

“What people?” 

The demigod blinked and looked away. “Your Mr. Stark, for one,” he said. 

Steve shrugged. It was hard to know what to say. “You gotta admit, you have some problems,” he said as gently as he could manage. 

Loki laughed softly, but it was a bitter laugh. “That I do.” He held up the picture. “May I keep this?” he asked.

“Sure,” Steve said. 

“I think I’ll put it up in my room, if Stark allows it,” Loki said. 

“Okay.” Steve looked at Loki for a long time, but the man didn’t say anything else. He just curled up in one of the leather chairs beside the fire and looked at the drawing broodingly.

***

Steve woke in the middle of the night with a start. He’d been having a good dream, a dream where Loki was normal. They’d been laughing about something, and then Steve had turned to Loki, and Loki reached out for him. Steve had felt a lurch of tenderness. “Loki,” he’d said. And Loki had replied, “Steve,” just ‘ _Steve,_ ’ and reached out, caressed his face, his hand cool and gentle, and—

Something was wrong. Something had touched him, woken him. Steve sat up, panicked, and saw a dark shape beside him. Steve rubbed his eyes, heart pounding. “What the hell are you doing here?” he gasped.

Loki was sitting beside him on the bed. “You called my name,” the man replied quietly. 

“I didn’t. I was asleep.” 

“Yes, you did.”

“I was asleep,” Steve repeated.

“Nevertheless, you called my name, so I tried to wake you. I’m sure Jarvis has video, if you insist. Jarvis, please bring up any recording you have of Captain Rogers calling my name in his sleep, and overlay it with violins, if it wouldn’t be too much trouble.”

“No!” Steve yelped. “That’s not necessary. That won’t be necessary.” He gulped. “You play dirty.”

Loki smiled. “It’s in my nature.”

“Where’s everyone else?”

Loki made a fluid, dismissive gesture with one hand. “Banner and Stark are in the family room. Banner is, I believe, asleep. Stark is grossly inebriated.”

“You got Tony drunk?” Steve felt a rush of anger. 

“I did nothing. Mr. Stark wished to toast his departed father. I gather that today is the anniversary of his passing. It brought your friend into a strange and rather volatile mood.”

“Oh, God.” Steve dropped his head in his hands. “How bad is he?”

“I cannot surmise, with the peculiar metabolism of Midgardians, but Banner did insist he drink several glasses of water. And after awhile he seemed to spend himself and is now calm and on the verge of sleep, I think.” Loki smiled bitterly. “We spoke at great length. It seems difficult familial relations transcend the differences in our respective cultures.”

Steve stared at him. He and Tony had bonded over what Natasha sneeringly called ‘daddy issues?’ Steve never would have imagined that. Loki still had the power to surprise him. He reached out and put a hand on Loki’s shoulder, about to ask him if he wanted Steve to get him some water or return him to his room, when the man looked at him.

Loki’s face twisted. “Foolish, is it not?” He looked away. “I wanted to be the . . . the favorite, the pet, the _hero_ , just once.” Loki shook his head a little. “I had little aptitude for it.”

Steve maintained a tactful silence. 

“What do you think?” the man asked. “Had my fahter loved me better, would we be here, now, having this discussion? Tell me the truth, Captain. You’re known for being such an upstanding, honest man, among other things.” 

Steve knew Loki was being a bit sarcastic, but it didn’t matter. He took a deep breath and steeled himself. “I think you’re incredibly needy and there wasn’t much your father could have done to meet your needs. Because it isn’t about him. It’s your own insecurity reflecting this—this dark reality back at you. And I could sit here and lie and tell you that you’re perfect—heck, the whole damn universe could worship you—and it wouldn’t make a difference. You wouldn’t feel any better. You’d still see the same guy in the mirror.”

Loki looked at him, eyes widening. 

Steve couldn’t tell if he was offended or hurt or just plain disbelieving. He swallowed.  
“Sorry. But that’s really how I feel.”

“Well. That is _honest_ , is it not?” Loki turned away. “I suppose, then, the war was lost before there was even a battle.”

“I didn’t say that,” Steve insisted. “But if you want to stop feeling like crap—and believe me, I can tell you feel like crap—then you have to stop fighting imaginary enemies out here and focus on the real enemy in there.” Steve tapped him gently on the chest. Loki looked down at his finger. “That’s where the real war is. That’s where you win or lose.”

“I see.” Loki twisted a smile in Steve’s direction. “I cannot say if that is the sagest counsel I’ve ever heard, or merely the rankest gibberish.”

Steve laughed. “You know, I’m a bona fide Captain. I’m not the smartest guy you’ll ever meet, or even the strongest or fastest. But I know a lot about war and strategy.”

Loki’s smile became a little more genuine at this. “This is true.” He looked down at his hands, chained in gold.

“Why did you come in here, anyway?” Steve asked. “To talk about—Tony? And your dad?”

Loki laughed. “Not at all. I merely—I enjoy your company. Separation from my people—even if it was a separation I chose—sometimes leaves me feeling lost.” 

Steve squirmed. 

Loki shifted on the bed just a little, looking Steve up and down. “And I know you are not one who will spurn my company.” He reached out and touched Steve’s mouth. Steve grabbed his hand, held it there. For a long moment they just looked at each other. Steve realized he was holding his breath. 

Loki smiled. 

Steve briefly shut his eyes, reveling in the fact that Loki’s hands were cool, but Steve’s lips seemed so very warm. He allowed himself a moment just to enjoy the feeling of someone touching him this way, lighting a fire in his belly. Then he opened his eyes. “I shouldn’t be doing this,” he groaned.

Loki looked amused. “Is this your quaint Midgardian taboo against homosexual relations again? It really is a most random prohibition, is it not?”

“It’s not exactly that,” Steve murmured against Loki’s skin. 

“Mmhmm.” Loki lowered his hands, looking at Steve seductively. “Touch me,” he whispered.

“You’re in chains,” Steve objected. 

“That makes it all the more titillating.” Loki offered Steve his manacled hands. 

Steve licked his lips. If Loki was all right with it . . . he grabbed the cuffs and jerked them over Loki’s head, hesitated, then leaned forward, kissed him hard. Loki moaned into the kiss, his body pliant, every inch of him a surrender. It felt good to have him so close. There was something empowering in seeing him like this, having him in Steve’s grasp, vulnerable. Steve kissed him again and again. He kissed Loki’s cheek, his chin, his throat. 

“I cannot understand why any could object to this,” Loki gasped. 

Steve pulled back and looked at him, mesmerized. Even Loki’s normally pale face was flushed with high passion. “Some people think God said not to,” Steve explained feebly.

Loki smiled, eyes glittering impishly. “Well,” he huffed, leaning forward, “ _This_ God has no issue with it.” He lowered his hands, forcing Steve to do the same. The message was clear; his submission was a game only, and one where the rules could be changed without notice. Steve had control because Loki allowed it. Why the fuck did that knowledge only turn Steve on more? He could take Loki, pin him to the bed, fuck him silly. He could tangle a fist in Loki’s hair, force his head up for a kiss, knowing all the time that Loki wanted it every bit as much as Steve did, maybe even more. 

_I shouldn’t I shouldn’t I **should.** _ Steve gave up and gave in as Loki kissed him. It wasn’t what Steve expected at all—it was _gentle_ , like Steve wasn’t some kind of super soldier that couldn’t even be injured by normal weapons, let alone a pair of lips. Ah, but these lips _were_ dangerous, Steve realized as he melted into the kiss. Loki wasn’t just there, in front of him, kissing him. Loki had gotten in. Past his defenses. 

Steve pushed him roughly away. “It isn’t right,” he sighed. He couldn’t take advantage. Even if he really, really wanted to. 

Loki let go of his hands, holding his own up in a gesture of surrender. “You may protest that your reluctance involves your disgust at kissing another male, but I cannot help but wonder,” he told Steve quietly.

“I told you; that _isn’t it._ It’s just . . . you’re . . . Loki.”

“Ah.”

“And I’m—”

“Pure as the driven snow,” Loki finished bitterly.

Steve glared. “Don’t be an ass.”

Loki lowered his hands. “You oughtn’t worry. Like my brother, I’m sure you will never be sullied. Your perfection is built into your very bones. But I assure you, I’ll not try to _taint_ you again.” He swept up and made a move toward the door, but Steve grabbed him from behind.

Instead of flaring up at Loki’s barb, Steve felt himself grow tired. “Are we really going to do this again?”

Loki kept his back to the man. “Do you deny you want me?” he asked. There was something odd about his voice—some unevenness that Steve couldn’t read. 

Steve looked at Loki’s straight back, his stiff, curled-in shoulders, the way he looked straight ahead. “No,” he finally answered. “I want you more than I think I’ve wanted anything. But you’re not in a position to say no, and . . . and you’re the enemy. How do I know you won’t try to kill me?”

Loki breathed out, tension draining away, and turned to Steve. “I could give you my solemn word, for whatever it’s worth. I want you. I cannot envisage a situation where I would choose to destroy you, not when I want you so much. I need not be your mortal enemy,” he continued. “Could we not . . . comfort each other?” 

“It’s—I—” God. If Steve was so moral, so ‘good,’ why couldn’t he just say no? It would be wrong. There were dozens of reasons not to do this, and no real good reason that he should want to. Loki wasn’t the love of his life. They weren’t having some epic romance. They were just two men who needed a fuck. Loki wouldn’t dance with him, wouldn’t stay with him, wouldn’t love him. 

Steve found he didn’t care. 

They kissed again, more urgently this time. Steve grabbed Loki’s hips, yanked him close, grinding against him. Loki opened his mouth, inviting Steve’s tongue in. Steve whimpered as Loki’s tongue danced around his own, a slippery suggestion of further intimacy ahead. 

Finally, Loki squirmed away. “Let me unclothe you,” he commanded.

“Yes, please.” Steve sounded short of breath and much too eager. He wished he had better self-control. Then Loki began undoing his fly, and Steve stopped thinking. He watched as Loki tugged his underwear down. Steve could feel his face turn red, but Loki wasn’t looking at his face. 

Just as Loki’s hand closed around Steve’s cock, the door burst open. A wild-looking Tony stood, backlit by the light in the hall. “Fuck,” Tony said. Steve scrambled to turn away and rebutton his fly. “What the fuck are you doing in here? I’ve been looking all over for you!” he shouted at Loki.

“Banner had fallen asleep and you were, and I quote, ‘three sheets to the wind.’” Loki shrugged innocently. “I came in here so I could be . . . properly supervised.”

Steve hoped like hell Tony hadn’t noticed what they were doing. He seemed too far gone to care, though, his voice slurred, eyes squinting.

“Yeah, well, you shouldn’t have run off. I needed to tell you something.” 

“What’s that?”

“Okay. Okay. So. One Christmas I told my dad I wanted a Transformer and you know what he told me? He told me I was _too old to get toys for Christmas._ He said if I wanted one so badly I could make it myself!” Tony pointed a finger in the air. “Well, _guess what, Dad?_ I _did._ So there!” He turned and stomped away, Steve and Loki staring after him in astonishment. 

Steve looked at Loki with raised eyebrows. All Loki could do was shake his head.

“AND YOU KNOW SOMETHING ELSE!?” Tony shouted from down the hall. “ _FIFTEEN YEARS OLD IS **NOT** TOO OLD TO PLAY WITH TOY ROBOTS!_ ” Tony stomped away again. “I showed them,” he mumbled. “ _I showed them all_.”

“Well, that effectively killed whatever sensual atmosphere I’d managed to create.” Loki sighed. “Perhaps we’ll try again tomorrow.”

“Maybe,” Steve said.

***

Something woke Steve up. Something ringing. Shrilly. Repeatedly. Steve pulled the covers over his head and tried to burrow under his pillow. It was no good. Finally Steve rolled over and grabbed up his cell phone. “Mph?” he said.

“Morning, sunshine,” Natasha’s voice said. “Meet me in the library in ten.”

Before Steve could respond, she disconnected. He glared at the phone, then rolled over and tried to go back to sleep. Unfortunately, it wasn’t going to happen. He was a lot stronger than Natasha, but she was quick and damned clever. He knew if he didn’t get make it to the library there would be hell to pay, and he probably wouldn’t even see it coming. He sighed and got up. 

Ten minutes later he skidded into the library at high speed. “Sorry, the elevator took longer than I thought,” he said. 

Natasha raised an eyebrow. She was reclining on a sofa, thumbing through a Portuguese book on history. She was halfway through. Steve wondered if she could really read Portuguese and, if she could, whether she’d really read half the book. “Wow, that’s service for you,” she remarked. “I tried that on Tony once and he said, ‘Screw you; I don’t get up before 2:00 on weekends.’ You didn’t have to rush,” she added. 

Steve frowned. He could see Loki in an overstuffed armchair, long legs crossed elegantly at the ankles. He’d been trying to avoid getting in a compromising situation with Loki; this mostly meant avoiding the man altogether. 

“What’s up?” he asked Natasha. 

She jerked a thumb at Loki. “You’re gonna have to keep an eye on Princess, over there. Tony and Pepper have a big meeting in Beijing, and Clint and I have plans today.”

“Oh. Are you going out on a date?” Steve couldn’t tell if the two were actually interested in each other or not. They seemed to spend a lot of time together, but both agents played their cards close to their vests. 

“Date?” Natasha grinned. “We’re busting up a weapons ring. But if Clint’s lucky, I’ll get him a bouquet of uzis.” 

“Be still, my heart,” Clint said from the door. He grinned widely. “Let’s shake a leg.” As Natasha got up and joined him, he added, “You sure know how to show a guy a good time.”

“You’d better believe it.” She looked smug, giving Steve a nod as they left. 

Steve cleared his throat and took a seat on the couch. With Tony, Clint and Natasha gone and Thor on Asgard, he had only Loki and Bruce for company. “Where’s Dr. Banner?”

Loki nodded to another couch. “Let him rest. He has one of those vile Midgardian viruses that cause him to convulse and expel mucus from various orifices.”

“You mean like a cold?”

“I assume. Pathetic little creatures that you are, to be felled by such simple measures.” Loki didn’t sound especially contemptuous; his voice was almost fond. He licked his finger and turned a page in his book. “I spent half the morning rubbing sticky mentholated . . . _goo_ on his chest and urging him to take one of the many remedies Stark offered, to no avail.”

Steve looked around; beside Bruce’s prone form there was a coffee table completely jammed with bottles and tubes and lozenges and Kleenex, some used. He wasn’t surprised at Tony’s generosity; even the library had mostly been built because Bruce liked to read. “Did you finally convince him to take something?” he asked. 

“Sadly, no.”

Bruce rolled over. “I leard a hard lesson aboud pudding udwarraded stuff id by body.”

“You what?” Steve didn’t understand half of that. 

Bruce just groaned, grabbed another Kleenex and blew his nose hard.

“I think he’s trying to convey his distaste at treating himself unnecessarily with remedies he thinks may be questionable,” Loki said. “In light of his history, I mean.” He looked at Bruce expectantly. “Yes?”

“Kide ob,” Bruce hedged.

Loki rested his chin on his hand. “If that’s not an accurate enough translation, by all means, continue to attempt making your point. Perhaps charades would help. How many syllables?”

“Shud ub,” Bruce replied. “I’ll stick to natural rebedies.” He rolled over and in just moments, he was snoring. 

“He must really be sick,” Steve commented quietly.

“Hopefully the rest aids his healing,” Loki responded. He went back to his book.

Steve studied him as he read. Loki enjoyed reading almost anything. Steve had given him a copy of the Bible once, but that had gone over like a lead balloon. Loki found it amusing and improbable, but Tony had objected strenuously. “Who gave you a copy of _that?_ ” Tony had demanded. “Are they out of their mind?”

Steve was hurt. “I was only trying to help,” he’d tried to explain.

“By giving him _the Bible?_ That’s just sick, Steve. It’s bad enough that we have asshole humans twisting the thing, without having power-mad aliens using it for their ends! Bad, Steve. Bad idea. And what happens if he gets hold of some gullible moron who drinks his kool aid? We could have the worst cult ever on our hands! You need to _think_ before pulling stuff like this.”

Loki had been fascinated by the whole exchange, but Steve had yet to catch him trying to use religion manipulatively. And he was much more interested in Shakespeare, at any rate. He read with almost supernatural speed, limpid eyes briefly glancing over a page before turning to the next. He was beautiful like this, intelligence glittering behind his eyes, his form graceful in repose. He picked up an art book and flipped through it, but kept sneaking looks at Loki. Every once in a while, he caught Loki looking at him. Steve wished Banner would wake up so they didn’t have to be alone together. He shifted uncomfortably.

“Are you admiring my form or do I merely have some foreign object on my face?” Loki asked without looking up. 

Steve felt his face warm. “I was just wondering—what are you reading?”

Loki turned the page, then another. “Do you really wish to know?”

“Sure.”

Finally the man met his eyes. “Then come here,” he said, crooking a finger. 

Reluctant, Steve got up and came over to Loki. There were no chairs nearby, so Steve sat at his feet. Loki smiled benevolently as though Steve were a pup who had learnt a new trick. “Here, now; I’ll read you some Wilde; the prose melts in one’s mouth like the finest French chocolates.”

Steve had to smile wryly at that. Loki had turned out to be a picky eater and liked the best in life; Tony was constantly complaining that Steve spoiled him by bringing in things like French chocolates. 

Loki held the little red book aloft and began to read, _“‘Well, on faded old damasked couches, on huge pillows made of priests’ stoles, worked by devout fingers in silver and gold, on soft Persian and Syrian divans, on lion and panther rugs, on mattresses covered with a variety of cats’ skins, men, young and good-looking, almost all naked, were lounging by twos and threes, grouped in attitudes of the most consummate lewdness such as the imagination can never picture to itself, and such as are only seen in the brothels of men in lecherous Spain, or in those of the wanton East.’”_

Steve felt himself flush right up to his hairline. “It doesn’t really say that,” he hazarded. “You made it up.”

Eyebrows raised, Loki handed him the book without a word. 

Steve read the passage. “Oh. It sounded like something you would make up.”

He couldn’t tell if Loki’s answering smile was pleased or amused. “Indeed. And here I was, led to believe that all Midgardians are uneducated prudes.”

Steve shook his head with a smile. “How are you holding up?” he asked after a moment, trying to change the subject. 

Loki looked away. “I worry for my mother,” he admitted. He smiled, but bitterly. “It’s odd; my father is almost all powerful, and my brother, while stupid and impetuous, is a warrior without equal—and yet I worry all the same.”

“I think that’s natural.” Steve hesitated. “And your brother? Do you . . . do you worry about him?”

Loki looked offended for a moment, then let out a long breath. “I admit it would please me—if I could but sate my curiosity and know whether he is alive.”

There was an almighty crash and Steve sprang to his feet, the book dropping from his nerveless hands. Thor stood in the middle of the room, lightning crackling around him, wind whipping his hair across his face. “The Chitauri are here!” he shouted. “Prepare yourselves for battle!”

***

Bruce tried to get to his feet, but got tangled in his blankets, and fell off couch. Before any of them could say a word, Thor was gone, straight through the roof like bullet.

Steve spared Loki a brief glance, taking in his white face, his open mouth. 

“He has such an impeccable sense of timing,” Loki said sourly. 

“Yeah. Drama must run in the family,” Steve replied, and then he and grabbed Bruce under the arm and helped him up. “You okay?”

“Yeah. Ready for action, Cap,” Bruce assured him. 

“Jarvis, notify Tony and the others,” Steve commanded. He and Bruce ran out onto the balcony to assess the situation.

“They are already on their way, Captain,” Jarvis told him smoothly. 

“Good.” Out on the balcony, Steve could make out Chitauri swarming over the city although, though he couldn’t be sure, there seemed to be somewhat less than last time. “Dr. Banner?” he said. 

“Already od it,” Bruce replied, seething upward in rage. He wiped his green nose with the back of one mighty hand and knuckled into the fray. Steve wondered if he could get the Chitauri sick. It might be useful to know that sort of thing. Despite his illness, the Hulk seemed to be doing an amazing amount of damage, though as much of that was to the city as it was to their attackers. 

Steve heard a noise behind him and spun just in time to punch a Chitauri and send it flying over the edge of the balcony. 

Loki appeared in the doorway. “Remove these chains,” he said, holding his hands up. Steve hesitated. “Remove them _now_ , that I might _fight!”_

Steve met his eyes. “You know I can’t do that.” Loki looked absolutely furious. He opened his mouth, but a Chitauri came between them. It moved toward Loki with purpose and Steve felt a cold rush of fear through his body; Loki was utterly helpless, and they were here for him. Could Steve fight them _all_ off? And at what cost to the civilian population? The Chitauri struck and Steve saw Loki barely dodge the blow. 

Angry, Steve leapt onto the creature’s back. He punched the thing in its neck, hard, and the Chitauri collapsed to its knees. Perhaps they _could_ be beaten, even if it was just him and Thor and the Hulk.

Then the Chitauri reared. 

It happened so fast, Steve just didn’t have time to process. Before he knew what was happening, he was cartwheeling through the air, then dropping, dropping like a stone. He was flung off the building, plunging to his death. Desperately, Steve scrambled to grab hold of something and stop his descent. Miraculously, his hand managed to catch something and he jerked to a stop. Steve looked up. At first he couldn’t tell what he was looking at—something lit. Then he realized he was dangling from the horizontal line in the ‘A’ gracing the building. Only his superior strength had given him the ability to grasp the surface without jerking an arm out of its socket.

Steve looked up and saw Loki’s face, white as a sheet, lips thin, fifteen feet above him.

Steve gritted his teeth and tried to pull himself up. No use; the surface was smooth and it was all he could do to keep his grip. He would slip before long. Above, he could hear Loki screaming for the Hulk. What the hell was he thinking? The Hulk hated Loki. He’d never . . . Steve saw the big, green guy from the corner of his eye, approaching at speed. He stopped at Loki’s side. 

Calmly, Loki held up his shackled wrists and ordered, “Smash.”

 _Don’t do it don’t do it don’t do it,_ Steve begged silently. How could he have been so stupid? Of course Loki had been waiting for an opportunity just like this. How could Steve had been so stupid to think Loki might change—might actually care about him.

With a flick of a giant hand, the chains were broken. 

Steve felt his heart drop into his stomach. How could he prevail fighting the Chitauri _and_ Loki? He searched frantically through his mind for some defense, some move, some way to fight back. He wished he had grabbed his shield. He looked around, trying to spot something he could use as a weapon or a way to save himself. What he saw made him freeze. 

There, on the rooftop nearby, was a Chitauri with some kind of weapon, taking aim at Steve. For a split second, he considered letting go; if he dropped, he might be able to grab hold of something else. But before he had the chance, the Chitauri stumbled backward. There was a knife sticking out of its head. Steve couldn’t understand what had happened. He looked up and saw Loki conjure another knife out of thin air, jam it into the torso of an attacking Chitauri, and kick the beast away. 

Then he appeared above Steve again. “Hulk!” he shouted. “Lower me!” As Steve watched in shock, the Hulk picked Loki up by one ankle and carefully lowered him over the balcony. “Take my hand,” he said. 

Steve had been hanging for so long his limbs were going numb. It took him a couple of tries before he managed to grab Loki’s outstretched hand. The Hulk slowly lifted the two of them. Steve expected Loki to drop him at any moment, but the man’s hand held fast. He was struck by Loki’s strength, but even more by the man’s determination. He would not let Steve fall. He would not let Steve fail. 

Once back on solid ground, Steve doubled over for a moment, his arm aching. 

Loki guarded him, directing the Hulk to protect the perimeter. “Do you need a moment?” he asked. 

“Naw.” Steve flexed and stretched. “I’m good.”

“Very well.” Loki crooked a finger and Steve’s shield hurtled toward them through a broken window. “I thought you might want this.”

At that moment, Steve could have made sweet love to that shield. He’d never known how naked and vulnerable he could feel without it. “Thanks,” he said. He stood back to back with Loki. “So what’s the plan?”

He could hear the smile in Loki’s voice. “Kill them all.”

***

An hour later, Tony showed up. By then it was all over but the cleaning. Clint and Natasha hadn’t gone far before they were called back, and Loki, who did know more about the Chitauri than Thor, knew a viable way of cutting them off from the Mother Ship and rendering them inactive. It hadn’t been easy, but the Avengers, minus Tony and plus Loki, had defeated the invaders again.

Steve sat on the balcony, getting his breath back and surveying the damage. It didn’t seem half as bad as the last time. The Avengers had learned from their prior encounter with the Chitauri and, as it turned out, the Chitauri had already lost a good percentage of their force on Asgard when they attacked it trying to find Loki. 

Tony strode up to Steve, looking around like he was impressed. 

“How was your meeting in China?” Steve managed a weathered grin. 

“Boring. Looks like _you_ guys had fun, though.” Tony looked around, armored hands on armored hips. “You didn’t save anything for me?”

“Plenty of rubble to clear away,” Steve suggested. 

“Sheesh. I shouldn’t even have bothered doing Mach-8 the whole way back. I could have stopped at McDonalds or something, taken my time.”

Steve nodded. He knew the truth, though; flying back must have been hellish for Tony, knowing they might all die before he could reach them. “It’s okay. I had this one.”

Tony patted his shoulder. “You sure did.” The mask rose and Tony grinned widely. “From now on, I’m not even getting out of bed unless there’s at least a hundred thousand aliens. Anything less and you’re on your own.”

Steve laughed. 

Bruce came over, his hair and body a uniform grey from dirt and debris. 

“How ya feeling, sport?” Tony asked. 

“Actually, pretty good. Really pretty good.” Bruce scratched his head. “Better than I did earlier, in fact. I don’t feel like I’m about to sneeze or have the need to blow my nose at all.”

“Wow.” Steve was impressed. “Looks like we finally found a cure for the common cold.”

Bruce laughed weakly and looked out over the damaged city. “Sure. Turn into a giant green asshole and destroy the city. Yeah, the F.D.A.’s really going to go for that.”

“Well, I think I’m going to take Lady Godiva here back inside and get him some pants,” Tony interrupted. “Sound good, pants? You remember those? That item of clothing that goes from the waist to the ankles and covers up our dangly bits? Not that I especially mind your dangly bits, per se, but I think on the whole, the rest of the city has had enough trauma for one day.”

Bruce laughed. “Sure, Tony. Let’s go get some pants. I could use a shower, too.”

Tony led Bruce away. “We’ll see if the water’s still working. Otherwise I’ll fly you out of the city or something. We’ll go somewhere nice. Pick up some McDonald’s, too.”

“I’d like a Frosty,” Steve heard Bruce say as they headed back inside. 

“That’s Wendy’s, not McDonald’s.”

“You can fly from here to China but a Wendy’s is too far out of the way?” Bruce’s voice was amused. 

“Fine, I’ll get you a Frosty,” Tony replied with faux exasperation. “Jesus. You know, you’re really high maintenance.”

“Yeah, I know.”

Steve smiled and turned away. He saw Loki standing at the edge of the balcony, ostensibly looking out over the city, but his eyes were dark and distant. He seemed troubled. Steve approached him hesitantly. “Hey,” he said. He still couldn’t wrap his head around the fact that Loki had saved his life.

Loki looked at him rather coldly. “Did you need something?”

“I can’t believe you didn’t take the opportunity to escape.”

Loki shook his head. “Yes. I noticed your surprise,” he said dryly, turning his face again. 

Steve shifted from one foot to the other. Loki’s eyes could be as stormy as Thor’s when he was in one of his moods, but really, it only made him more attractive. Between his snowy skin and deep, expressive eyes, he really was made for drama. Steve had to know the truth. “Why did you save me?” he asked quietly. 

Loki turned to face him, expressionless for a long moment. Then his mouth twisted into a self-mocking smile. “ _Sentiment,_ ” he spat. 

He spun on his heel and stormed away, leaving Steve staring after him in astonishment.

***

That night, Steve holed himself up in his room. He had a lot to ponder, and everyone else seemed to be in the mood to party. They were having a celebration downstairs.

Steve ignored the cheering and laughter floating up to him and laid back on the bed, crossing his arms behind his head. He stared at the ceiling. His mind kept roiling, playing the same moment over and over again. What had Loki meant by ‘sentiment?’ Why hadn’t he let Steve fall? Was this all just part of another scheme? Had he done it merely to manipulate Steve? Maybe he figured that once he had Steve on his side, the others would follow. 

Or had he—and Steve wasn’t sure he should even consider the idea—changed? Was it possible that he _wasn’t_ a totally lost cause? Maybe Loki had genuine feelings for Steve.

Steve just couldn’t imagine it. Loki had done really bad things. He’d been a ‘servant’ of the Chitauri at the time, but that wasn’t much of a mitigating factor if you considered everything he’d done. Steve knew people could change. People did change. But Loki?

Maybe, just maybe, Steve shouldn’t write him off completely. Loki could have let Steve die—he could have killed Steve himself. He could have escaped. And instead, he’d stayed by Steve’s side, saved him and fought at his back, just like Steve’s loyal team used to do. 

Steve smiled. It had been kind of nice, having Loki at his back. The man was tough as nails in battle, strong and fearless and clever. And after he’d pulled Steve up, Steve hadn’t had a second thought about trusting him, not for the duration of the fight. He _had_ trusted Loki. 

For a moment, anyway. 

Finally Steve got up. This was all moot, anyway. Now Thor would be bringing Loki back to Asgard, and all Steve was doing was wasting what little time he had left with the man. Sure, maybe they didn’t have some epic romance, with sunsets and violins and dances, but maybe they could part as something like friends. 

He quickly combed his hair and tromped downstairs. Everyone was gathered in the living room, sprawled across furniture, drinking champagne and laughing. They were watching what appeared to be a rather shaky home video. 

“See, Bruce, that’s when you asked the potted plant to marry you. You don’t remember, but it was a lovely ceremony,” Tony was saying. He had one arm around Bruce and the other around Pepper. “The bride was charming; as I understand it, her mother was a begonia. Best bouquet I’ve ever seen.” Bruce was on the screen, talking animatedly to a potted plant while the real Bruce laughed.

Steve stood behind the couch. “What are you watching?”

Tony craned his neck. “Oh, hey! Done sulking in your room, dripping with man-pain? Well, I guess that makes _one_ of you.”

Bruce gave Steve a crooked grin, face red. “You remember that night we all got plastered? Clint took video with his cell phone and Tony had Jarvis upload it.”

Tony interrupted, pointing at the screen, “Oh! Steve—you’re gonna love this bit.”

A blurry, almost sideways Steve came onto the screen. Steve squinted and turned his head to the side. It was hard to make out what was going on. Then the camera righted and everything came into focus. There was Steve. And Loki. Dancing. Loki had a bejeweled tiara balanced crookedly on his head. They swayed together, completely out of time with the raucous tune playing in the background, slow dancing, spinning together in a drunken circle. 

Steve stared. They looked _right_ together. He realized the others were all looking at him expectantly and his face flushed. “What—what—why would you film this?” he asked Clint. 

Clint, lolling across Natasha’s lap, counted the reasons off on his fingers. “One, it’s hilarious, two, it had to be documented for posterity ’cause historians are going to go _apeshit_ if it ever gets out, and that leads me to three—” Clint grinned wickedly, “—it’s _excellent_ blackmail material.” 

Steve rolled his eyes. He looked around. They seemed to be missing a couple of people. “Where are Thor and Loki?” He felt a cold rush. “Have they returned to Asgard already?”

Tony laughed. “Thor’s feeling a bit drained after the battle so he’ll crash on the sofa. Loki’s upstairs in his room—sulking and dripping with man-pain,” he said dryly. “Thor, of course, is comforting him.” 

“Ah.” Steve cleared his throat. “I think I’ll just go check on them,” he said sotto voce. 

Tony grinned, not fooled. “Yeah, right. Whatever Pinks your Floyd, buddy. Give him a goodbye kiss for me. I, for one, will be glad as hell to get rid of that crazy alien.”

Steve headed upstairs, feeling trepidation. He knew Loki was offended that Steve had doubted him. He didn’t know what to say. He wouldn’t have a lot of time to say it, anyway. They’d return to Asgard tomorrow; he should probably just say goodbye and leave it at that. 

He approached Loki’s room, well, _cell_ , really, considering the reinforced walls and the locks on the doors and the cameras everywhere, and found Loki and Thor sitting together and speaking in low voices. Loki’s head was bowed, his face troubled. Thor reached out and squeezed his shoulder. To Steve’s surprise, Loki didn’t push him away. 

“All is well,” Steve heard Thor mutter. 

“By what standard?” Loki replied. 

“Your parents and friends still live and your enemies are defeated. Do you count that no victory?” Thor persisted. 

Loki gave him a tired smile. “To quote a rather overwrought Midgardian song, ‘I’m only happy when it rains,’” he said wryly. 

“If you wished me to be literal, I am certain I could arrange that.” Thor grinned. At Loki’s scowl he added, “No, brother, do not chasten me. I know it was merely a metaphor. Midgardians have funny turns of phrase.”

Loki looked up and spotted Steve in the doorway. He showed no expression at all, but his body stiffened. 

“Ah, another visitor,” Thor said, standing. “I must thank you for caring for my brother, Captain.”

“Oh. Uh. It was no trouble,” Steve said. He wiped his palms on his jeans and shrugged. “I mean, he saved my life today. I was lucky he was there.”

Loki ignored Thor’s sunny smile. “I suppose you’ve forgotten that the very reason your life was in danger was due to my presence, then,” he said with a sardonic lift of his eyebrows. 

“Well, it’s not like you could have left and spared me the danger,” Steve pointed out. “Being a prisoner and all, I mean.” He turned to Thor. “Would you mind if I, uh, had a minute alone with Loki?”

Thor grinned. “By all means. My brother is clearly in good hands with Captain America. You seem a good influence on him.” As he passed Steve in the doorway he paused and added, “In fact, Captain America might be the only one who is a . . . match for my brother.” 

Steve blushed. 

“If you’re finished being an imbecile, would you please leave?” Loki asked. 

Thor laughed. “Calm your tits, brother. I meant no harm.” Loki glowered but said nothing.

Steve smiled weakly. “You’ve really got a handle on slang these days, haven’t you?” 

Thor gave Steve a wink and left the two men alone. 

Steve looked around the room. Loki had been there for a month, and the place had come to have his stamp on it. He had a bookcase with a dozen or so of his favorite books, a desk with a chess board, a backgammon set and a deck of cards, and hanging next to the bed was a picture—the picture Steve had drawn. It made Steve feel kind of warm and funny to look at it. 

He smiled and sat next to Loki on the bed, but Loki turned haughtily away. 

Steve reached out and took his chin and turned it back. “Hey,” he said. “Come on. Let’s not do this again.” He and Loki looked at each other for a long time without speaking. “Can I kiss you?” Steve finally asked. 

Loki raised a brow. “Why would you ask me that?”

“Well, the shackles are off and it’s . . . it just seems more respectful this way. Like, getting actual consent from you instead of just tackling you the way I’d like to,” Steve said. “Now that you really, honestly have an actual choice, I’d like to know you’d like to. Of your own free will.” 

Loki was unimpressed. “That isn’t what I meant. I meant . . . why should you bother in light of the fact that you see me as a murderous wretch, ready at any moment to turn on you and hurl you from a building?” Loki’s face was expressionless. “Admit it; you expected me to betray you.”

“And you proved me wrong,” Steve replied firmly. 

Loki shrugged. “Perhaps, but you would be a fool to turn your back on me, would you not?”

Steve smiled. “So I don’t turn my back on you. I keep you where I can see you.” He reached up and brushed a thumb across Loki’s jawline. “More fun for me that way, anyhow.”

Loki arched a brow. 

“You really want to keep fighting? We have one night before you go back to Asgard.” Steve lowered his hand. If Loki didn’t want this, he didn’t want this. All it proved was that Steve was right not to press the issue when Loki was a prisoner. “I’d like to at least part as friends,” he suggest. “Can we do that? Shake hands and part as friends?”

Loki looked down at the hand Steve offered, then up at Steve. His eyes glittered. He launched himself at Steve, knocking him back against the pillows. 

Steve opened his mouth to ask what was going on, and found it filled by Loki’s tongue. He moaned softly, surprised and a little on edge. The truth was, he was probably _never_ going to stop thinking of Loki as dangerous. 

On the other hand, that was kind of arousing. 

Loki clambered atop him, straddling his legs. He took Steve’s hands and forced them above his head. Steve moaned again, and Loki let out a soft growl of satisfaction. He pulled back, his eyes raking Steve appraisingly. “With such a feast before me, I wonder where to start,” he murmured. “The sensitive skin beneath your ear? Your mouth, just begging to be explored? The vulnerable, quivering flesh of your abdomen?” Loki trailed one leisurely hand down Steve’s body, skimming his cheek, his lips, his throat, the swell of his chest. Without warning, he stopped and sharply pinched one of Steve’s nipples, sending a thrill of pain. 

Steve gasped, bucking and instinctively trying to jerk his arms free. To his surprise, he found he couldn’t break loose. Loki was only using one hand to hold him, and his appearance didn’t betray any particular effort. Steve had forgotten how strong the man was. The knowledge sent adrenaline coursing through him. The mixture of alarm and arousal was dizzying. 

Loki smirked down at him. “Come now; is this not what you wanted? You said you wished to _stop_ fighting.”

Steve laughed nervously. “We both know that isn’t what I meant.”

Loki leaned down, his long hair falling forward, brushing Steve’s face, a dark silken curtain hiding them from the world. “Do you not trust me?” he whispered.

Oh, hell. Steve swallowed. “Yeah. I trust you.”

Loki sat back a little. “Then you shall find it is not such a hardship to wear chains, so long as your master is one you trust.”

Steve wasn’t sure he liked the sound of that, but he couldn’t deny that he was turned on. And at least Loki knew what he was doing, which was more than Steve could say. 

Loki reached into the nightstand and pulled something out. Steve didn’t look at it; he didn’t dare tear his eyes away from Loki’s. The man reached up, winding it around Steve’s wrists—and the metal headboard. Holy crap. Then Loki sat back, admiring his work. Surreptitiously, Steve tested the fabric. It gave just a little, and he stopped. Whatever it was, he could break out if he had to, and that was all he needed to know. Beyond that . . . this was Loki’s show. He’d do his best to just enjoy it. 

“I always knew you would be lovely, bound. Next time I’ll find chains more fitting for a man of your rank. Something with sapphires, I should think,” Loki murmured. He kissed Steve once more before pulling away. “I think it lacks a certain something, though.” He reached into the drawer again and came up with a silk tie. He slowly slipped it around Steve’s head, blindfolding him. 

“I didn’t imagine my first time would be quite so exotic,” Steve said as tactfully as he could. Hot as this was, it was also _weird._

Loki laughed. “I want only to make it _memorable_ , my pet,” he said. He kissed Steve again, roughly, nipping his lower lip hard enough to draw a noise of protest from Steve. Then he worked his way down Steve’s body, tongue dancing over Steve’s skin, unbuttoning his shirt with clever fingers. 

Steve felt cool air as Loki unzipped his pants. He felt incredibly exposed like this, not able to see and not knowing what Loki would do next. His breath caught as Loki unclothed him. He felt Loki’s cool hand slide up his thigh, making Steve’s cock twitch. Steve let Loki push his legs apart; he could feel the man settle between his knees. He hoped to God he hadn’t made a mistake. Loki could do anything to him right now, absolutely anything, and Steve wouldn’t even see it coming. 

He felt Loki’s hot, wet mouth engulf his prick. Steve groaned at this unexpected pleasure. Loki began to suck his cock, his hands cupping Steve’s balls. “Oh, God,” Steve gasped. He couldn’t help thrusting up into Loki’s mouth, but the man didn’t seem to mind. He could have stilled Steve’s hips with one hand, Steve knew, but he didn’t, swallowing Steve right down to the root, throat convulsing and taking him all in. Steve nearly came off the bed. It took all of his will power not to rip an arm loose. He wanted, more than anything, to fist a hand in Loki’s hair and hold him in place. He felt Loki’s tongue swirl around the head of his cock. “Please,” he grunted. “If you—you can’t—I’m gonna come.”

Loki pulled away, laughing softly. “Ah, yes. I forgot the eagerness that comes with inexperience.” Steve’s face flamed. “A moment,” Loki told him. Steve could hear the man fumbling for something, but he didn’t know what was happening. The blindfold kept him in a state of exhilarating tension.

He felt Loki’s hand grip the base of his cock, angling it, before he was slowly encased in wet, silken heat. God, it was so tight. Was he—? Steve moaned. His entire body quivered with the effort of remaining still. 

Loki put a trembling hand on Steve’s chest. “Don’t move,” he gasped. “Not yet.” Steve felt Loki’s legs on either side of him. Gradually, the man became comfortable enough to move, rocking, sliding, rising and falling on Steve’s cock. 

“More,” Steve begged. 

Loki’s pace quickened, long hands splayed on Steve’s chest. Steve thrust up as Loki sank down. He couldn’t believe how good it felt; he wanted more. His whole being ached with it; he wanted to grab Loki around the waist and slam him down. 

“Fuck. Please, I have to—” Steve choked. “I need to touch you. I need to take you.”

He could hear the snarly-smile in Loki’s voice. “Do it,” he commanded. 

Steve jerked his arms free and tore off the blindfold. Loki seemed surprised and delighted that Steve found this so easy. Steve bore him backward, throwing him down on the bed. They struggled for a moment, not a playful sparring this time, but an earnest contest for domination. Steve knew Loki would not respect an inferior. He gave up and did what he’d been longing for; he seized Loki by the hair, pulling his head back, and kissed him hard, thrusting his tongue into Loki’s mouth. The man wrapped his legs around Steve, holding him close. 

Finally Loki broke the kiss and they paused, panting. 

The look in Loki’s eyes gave Steve an uneasy feeling that while he’d pinned Loki, he still wasn’t the one who’d won the confrontation. 

“Take me, then,” Loki ordered. Steve was amazed that he could be so commanding, so in control, even with Steve’s fist full of his hair. 

Steve kissed him again, then took one long leg, hiked it over his shoulder, trailed a hand down its pale expanse. He wanted to see Loki’s face, wanted to watch his expression as Steve fucked him. He positioned himself and pushed, slowly, watching Loki’s face flush. Steve tugged his hair, thrusting, watching Loki’s breath come faster, watching him writhe. 

“Yes, that’s it,” the man breathed. “Yes. Right there. Harder. _Harder._ ”

Steve did his best to comply, holding Loki down, slamming his cock into the man’s body again and again. Loki gave a breathless little cry at each thrust, the noise going straight to Steve’s cock. 

Loki reached up, caressed Steve’s face, dragging a finger along Steve’s lips. Then he reached up and grabbed the back of Steve’s neck, forcing him down into another kiss. In Steve’s wildest dreams he’d never imagined it could be so good—hard and sweet and slick— 

“ _Now,_ ” Loki growled, and Steve felt himself climax. 

He continued to thrust into Loki as long as he could, reaching down to pump the man’s prick. Loki cried out at this, head falling back. 

Steve watched, marveling at the exquisite expression of Loki’s face, vacillating from ecstasy to pain as Steve continued to flex his fist in the man’s hair. Finally Loki gave a soft cry and stiffened, semen spurting from his twitching cock. 

Steve finally loosened his grip of the man’s hair and collapsed beside him. “I haven’t been this out of breath in years,” he remarked. 

Loki laughed, a little breathless still himself. He crawled over and rested his forehead against Steve’s shoulder. Steve shivered as Loki drew a finger lightly along the small of his back. “That was, I think, rather good for your first time. I am interested to see your progress in the future.”

Steve rolled over. The bed was damp with sweat. He wanted a shower, but he didn’t want to ruin the moment. It was nice to lie here with Loki, spent and sated. “So . . . what happens next?” he asked with a little trepidation. 

“I know not what the future holds,” Loki replied with a shrug. “Though I should like to bring you to Asgard; I could use a servant capable of meeting my exacting standards,” he teased. 

“Very funny.” Steve thought about being with Loki. What did he even call him now? Boyfriend? Lover? Friend with benefits? He had no clue what he was doing. Maybe they could work, though. You never knew. They’d even started off with a dance, just like Steve had always wanted. “I’d kind of like to visit Asgard, though,” he admitted. “I’d like to meet your mother.”

“Mmmm,” Loki said drowsily. “If you’re going to get all serious about it, I suggest you bring a goat to sacrifice. Or perhaps my father would prefer to pay a dowry,” he added cynically. “I’m fairly sure he’d give you my mother’s best jewels if he could but get rid of me.”

“Don’t be such a martyr,” Steve murmured. He stroked Loki’s hair. “I wasn’t too rough, was I?”

Loki laughed. “Don’t flatter yourself, little Midgardian.”

“Not sure I like ‘little’ in this context.”

“My apologies, pet. You were a very thorough and proficient lover.”

“Wow. An apology _and_ a compliment.” Steve grinned. “Maybe your brother was right. Maybe Captain America _is_ rubbing off on you.”

Loki looked up at him an arched a brow. “That’s not the kind of ‘rubbing off’ I want Captain America to do.” He trailed a hand down Steve’s chest, grazing his stomach, long fingers tracing his treasure trail. “What happens if,” Loki pondered, “rather than you rubbing off on me, some of my naughtiness rubs off on you?” His eyes were wicked and playful, his smile a promise of pleasures far into the night. He stroked Steve’s flaccid penis, smirking when the little soldier stiffened at his touch.

Steve moaned. He was really glad for the serum at times like this. He didn’t know if he could keep up with a demigod, but he was happy to try. He smiled. “A certain amount of corruption might be fun, too,” he said, and kissed Loki hard.


End file.
